


Your Body's Borders

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Negan, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:23:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 106,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9963491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: Canon-Divergent AU where Negan shows up with Abraham and his group and Terminus happens a little differently. Set at the beginning of season 5.Rick Grimes hasn't been the same since Terminus, and he hasn't told anyone why. But Negan, a new addition to their group, seems to be paying Rick a lot of attention, and he notices right away that something just isn't right with Rick.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a thinly veiled excuse to write a lot of traumatized Rick and hurt/comfort for this pairing. Fair warning, I changed what happened with Terminus a bit. It's not going to be graphic, but the past rape/non-con tag is there for a reason. I didn't throw the archive warning in there since it's in the past, but if people think I should change the tags to add a warning just let me know!
> 
> I'm not 100% sure where this is going to go yet or how long it will be, so there may be more tags added or a rating change later on.

“Rick?”

There was a heavy hand on his shoulder, and Rick instinctively flinched away from the contact, fear seizing up in his chest and choking him.

“Shit, sorry. I was just…” Negan pulled his hand back and looked at Rick, searching for an explanation, “People are starting to settle in for the night. I was just checking to see if you wanted me to take the first watch. I haven’t seen you sleep in the last two days.”

Rick took control of his breathing, willing himself to calm down. It was a touch on the shoulder for God’s sake. He shouldn’t be jumping out of his skin like that. He forced himself to meet Negan’s eyes. “I’ve got it.”

Negan slid down beside him anyway, leaning back against the decorative railing that separated the pulpit from the pews in the tiny church, his shoulder brushing Rick’s as he sat. “You know,” he said, ignoring Rick’s annoyed glare in his direction, “You’re not going to be helping anyone if you fall asleep on watch because you tried to tough it out.”

Rick gritted his teeth and stared straight ahead, wondering if there was a way to move himself away from Negan so that they weren’t touching without the other man noticing. “I’m not tryin’ to _tough it out_.” He shifted awkwardly beside Negan.

Negan noticed the way Rick seemed exceedingly uncomfortable with being so close and thankfully took the hint, scooting further away so that they were no longer touching. “What’re you doing staying up every night, then?" His tongue slid between his teeth in what was probably meant to be a teasing grin, but to Rick it felt predatory, "You waiting for everyone to go the to sleep so you can jack off?” Negan caught sight of the death glare Rick shot him and held his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, sorry. Just trying to lighten the fucking mood."

Rick turned away and bit his lip, internally debating on whether or not he should tell Negan why he kept taking watch. Not the _real_ reason, but the surface one. The easy version. The one he gave to the rest of the group when they caught him acting strangely the past two days.

“Rick?”

God, that man was fond of saying his name. And not one to just _let something the fuck go_ , either. So Rick gave in, told him the easy version.

“I can’t sleep.”

He could feel Negan’s eyes on him, still searching. It felt invasive, made Rick want to crawl out of his skin.

“Why not?”

Rick’s patience wore out. “I just can’t. It’s not important why, but since I can’t, I may as well do something useful and let other people get some rest.”

Negan stared at him for a long second and then nodded and turned his gaze away from Rick, seeming to sense that he wasn’t going to get anything more out of him. “Alright.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Rick pled a silent prayer for Negan to _take the damn hint_ and just go grab a corner and leave him the hell alone. But he didn’t. He stayed silently beside Rick, looking out into the church over the rest of their group, watchful and calm. Rick settled back into the quiet, only to be jolted back into discomfort when Negan spoke again.

“Is it the same reason you don’t like people touching you?”

Rick sat frozen, staring straight ahead, as if not moving would somehow trick Negan into thinking he hadn’t heard the question.

“You don’t have to answer that, not if you don’t want to. It’s just something I’ve noticed,” Negan said, calm and conversational, “You’ve been with this group a while, right? I can tell you’re pretty fucking close with a lot of them. But you flinch every time someone goes to touch you. The only people I’ve seen you willingly touch are your kids. So I’m thinking your friends are either really goddamn unobservant to not have noticed you don’t like it, or really shitty and just don’t care, or it’s a recent enough thing that they haven’t picked up on it yet.”

Rick didn’t respond, just felt discomfort growing between them. Or maybe it was just him. Negan seemed perfectly content to keep talking.

“They seem like smart, nice enough folks, so I’m guessing it’s the third one.” Negan said, completely nonchalant, as if he was discussing the weather and not Rick’s strange personality quirks. When Rick stayed silent, he seemed to finally catch on. “I can tell you don’t want to talk about it, though. You’re about as uncomfortable as a Baptist at a bar on free booze night. So I’ll let it go. I just wanted to let you know I’ve noticed. Oh,” He added, “And sorry about the shoulder thing. I tend to be a handsy kind of guy. Always fucking have been. I’ll work on it, though.”

With that, Negan stood up, scoped out a corner of the room to sleep in and laid back down, having deemed Rick fit to keep watch.

It was unnerving, but not overly surprising that Negan had picked up on Rick’s aversion to touch so quickly. Ever since Rick had regrouped with Glenn and Maggie- who had brought along newcomers Tara, Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, and Negan- the man had been paying special attention to Rick. Attention that could have been chalked up to him sizing Rick up- Negan’s alpha-male personality naturally choosing to scope out the man in charge- but Rick knew better. He saw the quick glances that Negan stole when he thought Rick wasn’t looking, the way Negan’s eyes lingered on his ass when he walked or dropped to his lips when he spoke. Occasionally, Rick would catch Negan’s gaze running down his body, roaming over his arms and chest and coming to rest between his legs. He wasn’t exactly subtle about it, but Rick got the feeling that he wasn’t trying to be.

Before everything, before Terminus, Rick may have found Negan’s attention amusing. Maybe even arousing, though it had been a long goddamn time since he’d felt that way about anyone, even longer since he’d felt that way about another man. But none of that really mattered, because now the idea of another person touching him in any way, especially as intimately as Negan seemed to be interested in doing, made him want to tear his skin off. Dig his fingers in until the flesh was gone and he was just blood and bone.

It had only been two days since Terminus, and Rick had barely slept since then. The one time he’d had to, when his body had been so weary and exhausted that it had just given up, he'd been woken up by nightmares, memories of what had happened playing on repeat in his head for him to experience again and again. Because apparently, once wasn’t enough.

No one else in his group had understood why he had wanted to go back to kill them all. And that was probably a good thing, he knew. It meant no one else had been subjected to what had happened to him, and for that he was grateful. But it also meant that they’d left the place behind, albeit in flames, but still too escapable for Rick’s peace of mind.

So he stayed up until he couldn’t anymore, keeping vigilant watch over his group and avoiding his subconscious like a herd of walkers in the woods. The one time he did sleep was terrible. Even if he woke up physically replenished, being forced to relive Terminus left him more emotionally battered and bruised than before. He’d take physical discomfort over that any day.

Despite Gabriel’s questionable trustworthiness, Rick was thankful for his generosity in letting them all stay in the church. It was better than camping outdoors, or in cars. The one day they’d spent on the road had been harrowing enough, every crack of a twig or rustle of leaves making Rick’s hair stand on end in petrified terror that the Terminus group had found them.

And even still, locked away in the relative safety of the church, Rick felt on edge. His eyes kept darting to the windows, even though they were half boarded up, expecting to see someone standing outside, peering in at him from behind frosted glass.

He didn’t know how he felt about Negan being so aware of him, enough that he noticed how physical contact set Rick’s teeth on edge. On one hand, it was a good thing that he’d noticed, since he said he’d work on not touching Rick. It was a strangely considerate gesture from an otherwise rough man, and Rick was grateful for it. He’d only known him a couple days, so out of everyone, Negan was one of the last people he wanted near him. It wasn’t personal; just a product of the trauma he’d endured.

But on the other hand, the paranoid, out-of-his-mind-with-fear, jumpy side of Rick hated that this man, this _stranger_ , had caught on so quickly that something wasn’t quite right with him. It made him feel vulnerable, weak. Like everything that had happened to him was written across his face for anyone to see. And the fact that said stranger seemed to have a less-than-pure interest in Rick only added to his discomfort.

He wanted to trust Negan. He really, really did. He seemed a decent enough guy, if a bit vulgar, and the story that came attached to him, Abraham, Eugene, and Rosita was an interesting one. Eugene was a scientist who knew how it all started; a man with no survival skills, but a mission to make it to Washington, D.C. and use his knowledge to put an end to the hellscape the world had become. It almost seemed too good to be true, but who the hell was he to deny the chance at a new life?

He’d been resistant at first, but after tonight, with the drinking and the bonding and an impassioned call to action from Abraham, he’d relented, and tomorrow their group would be heading to D.C. to seek out a cure. And after that…well, who was to say what they’d do after that. If all went according to plan, if Eugene’s cure really did work…Rick couldn’t even comprehend it. He’d spent so long in this new world, he felt like it had become a part of him. Trying to rebuild after everything that he’d seen and done sounded like an insurmountable task.

Despite his doubts, he truly hoped that everything with D.C. would pan out. That, against all odds, the world could actually start returning to normal. Maybe then, when civilized society was being rebuilt, Rick would be better. He would compartmentalize everything that happened to him at Terminus into neat little boxes and file them away into the back of his brain, where he would leave them to rot. He would get over this stupid aversion to touch and he wouldn’t flinch away from his friends and maybe then he could relax a bit around Negan. He couldn’t picture it, couldn’t see a world beyond what it had become, but he wanted it anyway.

“Where the hell is Bob?”

Sasha’s panicked voice ripped through the dark, shattering Rick’s thoughts and making his heart skip a beat. He was on his feet in an instant, scanning the room in a futile attempt at locating Bob.

_Yeah, because Sasha definitely didn’t already check for him in the room we’re all in, Grimes._

“What do you mean, where is he? He was here with everyone else not more than an hour ago,” Rick asked, making his way to where Sasha was standing.

“Well, he’s not here now! We were talking about an hour ago, and then I went to go fight Tyreese for Judith and I haven’t seen him since…I thought maybe he stepped out for a minute or something, but he’s not here.” Sasha’s voice was tight with panic, and while her words came out sounding hostile, Rick knew it was just fear manifesting itself.

Maggie, looking worried, joined them by the pews. “Daryl and Carol are gone, too,” she said, and Rick felt his heart stop with fear.

Within a minute, the rest of the group was aware of their missing person. Sasha whirled on Gabriel as he joined the concerned group.

“This is all connected. You show up, we’re being watched, and now our people are gone,” She growled, pulling a knife out of her belt. “Where are our people? _Where are they?_ ” She was shouting now, knife brandished, and Tyreese pulled her away, trying to calm her. But she wasn't calm, and Rick wasn’t calm. On the contrary, his whole body felt tightly wound with terror and distrust.

He grabbed Gabriel, getting in his face, “What did you do? Why did you bring us here?" Rick felt his breathing getting heavy, "There are words scratched into the side of your church, Gabriel. _You’ll burn for this_. What will you burn for, Gabriel? What did you do?” He was yelling, shaking him, trying to ignore the fact that his own body was shaking. If they had been led here by Gabriel just to be turned over to the Terminus group, Rick didn’t know what he would do. He’d seen the words scratched into the side of the church earlier that day. Carl had pointed them out to him after he and several others had returned from a supply run. He had meant to confront Gabriel about what they meant earlier, but in the wake of the night’s celebration, he’d let it slide. A decision that he now very much regretted.

And then Gabriel explained himself tearfully, recounting how, at the beginning of it all, he had turned his back on his congregation and locked himself away inside the church. He’d stayed safely inside while listening to the people he knew getting ripped apart, screaming and banging on the walls for help. He believe he was damned for it.

So he was a coward. But Rick already knew that. As long as he wasn’t associated with Terminus…

“Guys…” Glenn called, looking out one of the church’s front windows, “There’s someone lying on the ground outside.”

Sasha ripped out of Tyreese’s grip and ran through the front doors and into the clearing in front of the church. Everyone else followed on her heels, and Rick’s stomach clenched when he saw a limp figure curled on the ground.

Bob.

And then they heard it. A faint whistling coming from all around them. Fear shot up Rick’s spine like ice, rooting him to the spot. Shots began to fire from the dense trees around the church, and Tyreese and Sasha grabbed Bob under the arms, hauling him inside. Rick came back to himself and shot blindly, covering them until they were safely within the walls again.

Sasha was distraught. Bob had been bitten earlier that day, during the supply run, and one of his legs was missing. The people from Terminus had grabbed him when he stepped outside, he said. They’d knocked him out, and when he came to, his leg was gone. They’d cooked it and were eating it right in front of him. And then they’d dumped him here to send a message: they knew where they were. They could attack at any time.

Rick’s chest felt tight with fear. Abraham was speaking, talking about leaving. Right now. But Daryl and Carol were still missing, and Bob said that he hadn’t seen any indication that they had been captured by the Terminus group.

Abraham fought him on it. He was insistent on leaving tonight, and while Rick couldn’t blame him, there was no way in hell he was leaving when Daryl and Carol were still out there somewhere.

Glenn, ever the peacemaker, eventually settled everything by agreeing to accompany Abraham and his group to D.C. if they just waited a night. They would leave tomorrow, as planned, if they stuck around tonight to hunt down the Terminus group. To finish them.

Yes. Yes, finally. Rick was sorry it had taken this for his group to see that this was necessary, but he was glad they finally saw what he had seen two days ago: that this was the only way to deal with these people. He could feel the fear and adrenaline mixing in his blood, making his determined, making him _strong_. These people would die. After tonight, Rick would be able to sleep easy, knowing that there was no way for them to come near him or his family ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

The plan was simple: leave for the nearby elementary school, knowing that the Terminus group would be watching them. They would wait there for the group to head to the church to attack while they were gone, and then they’d double back and hide in the woods until they could sneak back in behind them. And then they could end this.

So that’s where Rick was now, waiting in the cover of the trees outside the church alongside a handful of the others. He hated, absolutely _hated_ , that Carl and Judith were still inside, but he took some peace in knowing that they were behind locked doors with the rest of their people to protect them. He knew they were safe, that even if they were discovered, he and the rest would be there in an instant. He wouldn’t have left them there if he wasn’t confident that no harm would come to them. He would personally see to it that every one of those people would be dead before they had a chance to do so much as look at his children.

“Rick,” Michonne whispered from a few feet away, “They’re here.”

When he saw the Terminus group making their way into the church, he had to fight the impulse to charge them immediately, guns blazing. No, these people were armed. Dangerous. And Rick had a plan. It would work. There wasn’t room in his mind for doubt, and all of the fear he felt was being channeled into a state of bloodlust and confidence. Fuck fear. Now was the time for vengeance.

Rick signaled silently to the rest of his group to move out once their tormentors had disappeared into the darkened church. They made their way to the doors quickly and slipped inside silently behind them, just as the leader of the Terminus group was commanding his people to shoot the hinges off the door that Judith and Carl were behind.

Negan shot Rick a look, and Rick nodded, short and curt. It was time for this to start.

Negan and Abraham fired, taking out the two men closest to the door, and the leader spun around, blindly facing them in the dark.

“Put your guns on the floor.” Rick’s voice was ice, cold and hard as steel. The leader began to speak again, only to be cut off by Rick shooting off two of his fingers. Rick relished the sounds of suffering that the man cried out. He sounded shocked, wounded.

_Good, it’s about fucking time he was the one sounding that way._

Rick stepped out of the shadowed section of the church, gun pointed directly at the man whose fingers he’d severed. Rage burned in him, hot and cold together at once, all-consuming. He had to fight to keep his voice even, pulling back on the feral snarl caught in his chest.

“Put your guns on the floor and kneel.”

The leader, already hunched over in pain, gritted out a “Do what he says,” to the rest of his group, and they complied, dropping their weapons to the floor and sinking to their knees. One lone man remained defiant, but dropped to the ground the moment Abraham came up from the side, gun trained on his head.

Rick circled the leader, coming to a stop in front of him, gun still brandished. _Gareth_. He remembered his name. He remembered the sound of his voice and the way he had laughed, detached and mocking, after what he’d done, remembered the calm manner in which he’d observed men’s throats being slit as they bled out into a trough, as if it was something commonplace. He remembered the way the man’s breath felt, too hot and too harsh against his skin. Rick tried to control his breathing. He had to stay calm, stay in control. That’s what he was now, he was the one in control.

Gareth was shaking and clutching his hand, looking up at Rick from his place on the floor, “No point in begging, right?” He shook out, gritting his teeth through the pain.

At least he understood where he stood right now.

Rick cocked his head. “No.”

“Still, you could have killed us when you came in, there had to be a reason for that.” He was desperate, on his knees, searching for mercy that he wouldn’t find.

“We didn’t want to waste the bullets,” Rick answered, voice steady and surprisingly light.

“We used to help people, we saved people,” Gareth’s voice was shaky, “Then they came in and they-” he doubled over in pain again, clutching his injured hand. “After that…” He trailed off. Rick didn’t feel the slightest twinge of sympathy. Everyone had been through something, lost people. I didn’t mean you had to become the very thing you hated.

Gareth tried again. “You don’t have to do this, we can walk away. And we will never cross paths again, I promise you.” Rick felt a flash of rage shoot through him. How dare this man try to talk his way out of this, plead for a solution where they left the church alive, plead for mercy when he had shown none?

“But you’ll cross paths with someone. You’d do this to anyone, right?” Rick was just toying with him now, his fingers dancing along the red handle of the machete sheathed at his hip. The one he’d told Gareth he would kill him with back at Terminus. “Besides, I already made you a promise.”

And then he was swinging the machete down and hacking away at Gareth’s body with the blade, seeing red as he sliced through flesh and bone. He didn’t go straight for the head, no. He wanted to draw this out. To make this man…this _creature_ , suffer. He would never in his life stoop to the level that Gareth had with him, he would never want to, but fuck if he wasn’t going to try to make up for what had been inflicted on him with this.

Blood rushed in his ears, adrenaline blocking out the rest of the carnage in the room so he could focus down on the man in front of him. He could still hear the mocking voice ringing in his ears, too loud and too cold as it echoed in his head. He was going to shut it up, permanently. There would be no more dreams of that night, no more reliving the memory of cruel hands on him, of the burning pain and the suffocating feeling of shame. He slashed away at Gareth again and again, blood painting everything in front of him a vibrant shade of crimson.

Then there was a voice, a different voice, not Gareth’s, echoing faintly around him. He heard it like he was submerged underwater, wavering and far off. It repeated, growing stronger, until-

“Rick!”

Rick snapped out of his adrenaline-induced trance to see Negan standing a couple feet away from him. His hands were held out in front of him, as if he wanted to reach for Rick, wanted to place them on his shoulders to calm him down. But he didn’t. He didn’t because he’d told Rick that he wouldn’t, and he was following through on that promise. Though the fading haze of bloodlust, Rick felt strangely touched by the gesture.

Rick’s shoulders heaved, his breathing heavy and uneven as he met Negan’s eyes, listening to the other man as he spoke, “Rick. It’s over. It’s fucking over, alright? You need to stop.”

Rick looked down in front of him. Gareth was gone. What was left was barely recognizable as human. A lump of meat on the church’s hardwood floor, and Rick felt the insane urge to laugh. Because wasn’t that exactly what Gareth and his people had seen _them_ as? Meat to be consumed.

Negan stretched out an open hand, fingers wiggling and indicating that he wanted Rick to hand over the machete. Rick ignored the hand and instead he tucked it away on his belt again. It was over. He would sleep well tonight.

* * *

Negan stood in front of Rick, eyes wide with surprise at the scene in front of him. When they’d entered the church, he’d done his part. Flanked Rick and took out one of the men trying to break down the door where the kids were. When Rick had started in on the leader, he and the rest of their group had followed suit, cracking skulls with the blunt ends of their guns to save bullets. It was messier, sure, but ammunition was precious, and they only had so much. Negan didn’t mind the mess, if he was honest. His weapon of choice was the wooden baseball bat he’d picked up off a fallen comrade from a long-dead group he’d been traveling with months ago. She was wrapped and barbed wire and, yes, she was a she. A she by the name of Lucille, and in the months since Negan had started wielding her, he’d gotten a bit attached.

His liking for the bat had led him to bashing in the heads of both the dead and the living on occasion. So while he was used to _that_ aspect of what went down, he hadn’t been expecting the tidal wave of brutality that had come from Rick.

Sure, he’d only known Rick for a couple days. Not nearly only enough to make a solid assessment of his character, and it wasn’t like there had been some golden opportunity for him to say, “So, is there an infinite well of rage and bloodlust inside you that would cause you to, say, violently slash a man to a bloody pulp with a fucking machete?” Those kinds of things just didn’t come up in get-to-know-you conversations.

Negan felt that maybe they should. Just to get all that shit out there.

But regardless, he’d watched Rick pretty damn closely since they’d grouped up. Granted, a lot of that close watching was because the guy was hot as hell, but Negan had been watching more than just his cute ass. For the most part.

From the way the rest of the group talked about him, he was a good man, a strong leader, a source of strength and determination. Glenn and Maggie had spoken highly of him while on the road to Terminus and the rest of the group had backed it up once Negan had met them, too. And certainly, that _was_ Rick, from what he could tell: strong, capable, driven. Loyal to his fucking core, and a natural leader. There was the whole no-physical-contact issue that he seemed to have going on, but that didn’t seem to stop him from loving the shit out of his group and his kids.

So it certainly wasn’t that he’d seen Rick as weak. It was just that he hadn’t particularly struck Negan as a man who relished brutality. But as he took in the absolute goddamn mess at Rick’s feet that used to be a man, he realized that he may have underestimated that side of Rick. He was still going when Negan stepped closer to him and called his name out, too. Still hacking away at the barely-recognizable bloodied lump of a person in front of him. He seemed to not hear Negan talking to him.

Negan tried again, holding his hands out in front of him as if to say “calm the fuck down”. He didn’t touch him, partially because he knew Rick didn’t like it, and partially because, well, he couldn’t be positive that Rick wouldn’t chop off his hand in his current trancelike state. “Rick!”

Rick’s head jerked up, his eyes wide and startled like he’d been ripped out of nowhere and dropped there by accident. He eyed Negan’s outstretched hands warily, his shoulders heaving with the weight of his breathing. The machete was still clutched tightly in his hand, blood-spattered and ready to strike again if necessary.

It was absolutely not necessary, but Negan wasn’t sure if Rick could see that in his current state. “Rick. It’s over. It’s fucking over, alright? You need to stop.”

Rick’s eyes flicked down to the body in front of him, eyes still wide as he took in what he’d done. Negan watched his face, expecting shock or disgust. Instead, he caught a glint of what looked like satisfaction. An almost manic sort of relief crossed over Rick’s face that made Negan wonder if this was just who Rick was, or if something made these particular people so disgusting in Rick’s eyes.

Negan reached one hand out to Rick and gestured for him to hand over the machete. He withdrew it after a moment when Rick ignored his hand it sheathed it back on his belt. He glanced around, dazed, and then said, with a surprising amount of calm for someone spattered with the blood of the man he’d just cut down, “Take the bodies out front and burn them.”

Negan and the others- Abraham, Sasha, Tyreese, and Michonne- got to work immediately, dragging the lifeless corpses of the Terminus group out of the church. The leader was left for last, probably because no one wanted to deal with the mess Rick had made of him.

Rick, for his part, seemed dazed. He had dropped bodily onto one of the pews in the front of the church, and had a thousand-yard stare as he looked out at the pulpit. Negan decided to give him some time to process everything and went to work helping with the bodies, grimacing as he grabbed the lower half of the man Rick had killed and dragged him outside and added him to the small pile of bodies in the gravelly front yard of the church. He noticed upon walking back in that there was a sizable smear of blood leading from the door to the spot that Negan had dragged the body from. Whoops. That really couldn’t have been helped, though.

The priest, Gabriel, looked at the mess, horrified. Possibly just from the blood now marring the wooden floors of his church, but more than likely from the brutality he’d just witnessed.

“This is the Lord’s house!” He cried. He sounded awfully fucking scandalized for a guy who had left everyone he’d known to be eaten alive so he could save his own damn skin, Negan thought. He was just about to say exactly that when Maggie spoke for him.

“No. It’s just four walls and a roof.”

Alright, so it wasn’t exactly the vulgar chewing-out Negan would have given him, but it worked. Gabriel shut up while the rest of them finished cleaning up. After the bodies were properly disposed of and people started settling in for the night, Negan decided it was time to talk to Rick.

Rick was still seated in the same pew, looking far away and deep in thought. He didn’t seem to notice when Negan took a seat next to him, at a respectful distance.

“Rick. People are starting to go to sleep. _You_ need to go to sleep. You’ve been through some crazy fucking shit tonight. Let me take the first watch.”

Negan expected Rick to fight him on it, give him the same lame “I can’t sleep” excuse he’d given him earlier that night. Much to his surprise, he didn’t.

“Yeah. Alright.” Rick answered, still not meeting Negan’s gaze. He slowly stood and made his way to a corner of the room, not bothering to grab a sleeping bag, just curling into a ball on the floor and closing his eyes. Negan moved from the pew to the floor, leaning against the railing in front of the pulpit and looking out over the church. He felt his eyes being drawn to Rick, and even though he was fully aware that he was probably being creepy, he watched the man as he slept.

He looked completely at peace, despite laying on the cold hardwood floor, despite having just hacked a man into ribbons a half hour ago. His breathing was deep and steady, his chest rising and falling with each sleep-labored breath. Negan chuckled to himself. The guy must have been really goddamn tuckered out to have fallen asleep so damn fast.

Rick made him _really_  fucking curious, he had to admit. The way he’d done in the leader of that group- brutal and merciless- he had to know if that was normal for him. Negan glanced around to see if anyone else was awake, and sure enough, there was Glenn, rolling out a sleeping bag next to his wife, Maggie. Negan made his way over as quietly as he could, careful not to wake anyone or step on any hands.

Glenn looked up at him as he approached. “Hey, man. You still good to take the first watch? I heard you telling Rick you would, so I figured I could get some sleep, but if you’re about to drop…” He looked at Negan in a way tired, good-natured way that clearly said he didn’t want to take over, but he would if he had to. Negan appreciated the gesture, that self-sacrificing nature of putting others before yourself. It was something he often struggled with himself.

“Nah, man, I’m alright. You go on, curl up with your wife. You two fucking deserve it,” And he genuinely meant that, too. They were a damn cute couple, and Glenn’s fevered determination to find Maggie, against all odds, had been endearing on their road trip together. Endearing, if a bit naïve and foolhardy, or so Negan had thought at the time. What the hell were the odds of two people finding each other again in this world?

Seeing them now, the way Glenn was gently stroking Maggie’s hair out of her face with a look of pure adoration in his eyes, he was glad to be proven wrong. They were sweet kids.

“Thanks, man. Wake me up if you need to get some sleep, alright?” Negan nodded, and he hated to keep him awake any longer, but he was curious. He needed to know.

“Glenn, just real quick. I won’t keep you up, but I was wondering, after seeing Rick tonight- I mean, I don’t know the guy for shit, obviously, but you said you’ve known him nearly since the beginning. Is he…is that how he always is?”

The question didn’t require further explanation. Glenn knew what he was referring to immediately.

“You mean the way he killed that guy?”

Negan nodded, “The way he fucking hacked him into dog food, yeah. I just…I wasn’t expecting that, from the way you and Maggie described him.”

Glenn rubbed at his shaggy black hair, mussing it slightly, “That’s…that’s not usually how he is, no. Don’t get me wrong, he can be brutal. He’s a fucking badass,” Glenn grinned, “But I don’t know what it is with this group. I haven’t seen him like that before. He usually just goes straight for the kill when he’s gotta take out an actual person.”

Huh. So he was right, there _was_ something off about Rick. Negan nodded, “Alright. Just wondering. Thanks, Glenn. Sweet fucking dreams.”

Glenn chuckled. “’Night, Negan.”

Negan left Glenn to cuddle up to Maggie and wove his way back through the room of sleeping bodies to return to his seat at the front of the church.

So Rick was acting strange. He hadn’t struck Negan as a particularly sadistic man, and Glenn had confirmed that thought. Something about this group, about that man, had set Rick off. He thought back to when they first escaped Terminus, all of them out in the woods, the place on fire and overrun with the dead. Rick had wanted to go back. To clear the place out, kill every one of them, even though they’d only just escaped. There had been a fire in his eye then, a burning need to have those people dead.

And it wasn’t that Negan didn’t get that. Hell, if it hadn’t seemed like so much of a risk to them, he would have been all for going back, guns blazing, and wiping them out. He could still smell the sharp rust-like tang of blood as it filled the trough he, Rick, Glenn, and Daryl had been forced to kneel in front of alongside two other men from different groups. Men that hadn’t been lucky enough to escape with their lives.

He remembered the leader- Gareth, that’s right, he had introduced himself as Gareth- had come in right as Glenn was about to have his throat slit. He’d interrogated Rick about a bag of weapons Rick had stashed in the woods, and Rick had described its contents and told Gareth he was going to kill him with the red-handled machete inside.

_Well, Rick. You certainly lived up to that fucking promise, didn’t you?_

And then there had been an explosion outside, and Gareth had gotten pissed and grabbed Rick and dragged him off, presumably to interrogate him some more. Negan hadn’t seen him again until they’d killed their captors and were making their way out of Terminus. Rick had just shown up, shooting off rounds from a machine gun and killing walkers and people alike. He hadn’t thought much of it. In fact, until he’d seen Gareth again tonight, he’d assumed that Rick had managed to kill him and escape.

Clearly, that wasn’t the case. Negan scrubbed a hand over the scruff on his face and shot another glance over at Rick’s sleeping form.

_What the hell happened to you?_


	3. Chapter 3

Hands on his shoulders, shoving him down. The icy cold of hard concrete floor against his bare skin. The clink of metal, breath on the back of his neck, too hot and too close as he was bent over, and then-

Rick jolted upright from his place on the floor, drenched in cold sweat. There was a lump in his throat that was making it hard to swallow and his stomach twisted and turned over on itself like he was going to be sick. He managed to push himself to his feet, hands shaking and legs weak underneath him.

 _Water_. He needed something to drink, to wash the lump back down his throat. He made his way to one of the empty rooms in the back of the church and searched through supplies until he came up with a bottle of water, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. His fingers kept fumbling on the cap. 

“Rick?”

The bottle dropped from his hands and onto the floor, his whole body suddenly paralyzed with the sudden unrealistic fear that Gareth was still alive and had followed him back here.

Except the voice belonged to Negan. The man stooped down to pick up the water bottle, cracking it open before handing it to Rick again. Rick took it carefully, avoiding brushing the other man’s fingers. After the dream, he wasn’t sure how even a small touch like that would set him off. He put the bottle to his lips and downed half of it in one go.

“Are you…” Negan furrowed his brow, looking unsure, “What’s wrong?”

Rick considered saying ‘nothing’, but that seemed to be a little too obviously untrue. So he settled for aggression.

“Fuck off.” The words came out weak and shaky and unconvincing. He felt something warm and wet trickling down his cheeks, but he was too worked up to care if Negan saw him crying.

“No, I don’t think I’m gonna fuck off. Rick, you’re a goddamn mess. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, but it seems to me like you need to talk about it.” Negan’s voice, in spite of his usual vulgarity, was full of concern. It set Rick’s teeth on edge. Pity wasn’t something he handled very well.

“Why the hell are you awake?” Rick asked, dodging the question.

Negan tilted his head, looking slightly worried. “I told you I was taking first watch not two hours ago. Do you not remember that?”

He didn’t. He found that he couldn’t really remember much of anything after what happened with the Terminus group. He remembered killing Gareth, and Negan stopping him from slashing the man’s remains into bits, and then everything else was a blur.

Fuck, he was losing it. He was losing his goddamn mind. He felt weak in a way that he had never felt before. The closest he'd come to this kind of instability before was when he lost Lori, and even then that was much, much different. His wife dies, and everyone knew, everyone understood what he was going through. It wasn't just his grief, it was Carl's, it was everyone's. He knew how to handle grief, after losing her and so many of his friends. It wasn't something he got used to, but it was something he knew how to deal with, how to process.

But this...this wasn't anything like grief. He felt wrecked and stripped and scared, and the _shame_ of it- it ate away at his bones, sucking him dry. It was raw and painful in an entirely new way, a ragged, ugly wound that he just wanted to cover up. But by covering it up, the shame felt multiplied.

He looked at Negan, who seemed to know to keep his distance from Rick, and he appreciated that. He didn't want anyone to see him like this, much less someone that he barely knew, but he also just...didn't care. There was no way to stop the shaking, stop the tears. He wanted to crawl out of himself, leave his body behind as an empty shell. He didn't want it anymore, he just didn't. But he was stuck in it, and everything in him screamed to let some of what was weighing on him out. He could feel it clawing at the inside of his ribs, and all he wanted to to was relieve a little of the pressure in his chest, enough that he could breathe again. 

* * *

Negan shook his head, “Jesus, Rick.” He murmured, looking the other man up and down. He’d been startled to see Rick bolting straight upright from his sleeping place and push himself to his feel with shaking arms. He’d followed him into the back room to find him fumbling with the cap of a water bottle with trembling fingers, his hair and t-shirt damp with sweat and, even more startlingly, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

The tears were still coming now, even after Negan had confronted him. Rick didn’t seem to notice them, or if he did, he just didn’t care. He seemed detached from his body, the shadows under his eyes making them look dark and haunted. His face wasn’t scrunched, there were no sobs- he just looked tired and broken. It made his tears seem even sadder, the fact that he couldn’t even connect them to his face with some kind of emotion; they just flowed, helpless and matter-of-fact, down his cheeks and into his beard. Negan felt the powerful urge to pull Rick close to him, to comfort him and brush the wetness off of his cheeks with his thumbs. It was a strange impulse for him, as he generally wasn’t very in tune with his caring side. 

He didn’t act on it, though. Somehow, he seemed to sense that that was the last thing Rick wanted at the moment. He needed _something_ , though. The guy was standing here freaking the ever-loving fuck out, looking sweaty and short of breath like he’d just sprinted a mile. He watched cautiously as Rick drained the rest of the water bottle and slid to the floor, hands raking through his damp hair. Negan sank down next to him, keeping a respectful distance but also staying as close as he felt he could without making the other man uncomfortable.

“So you weren’t bullshitting me when you said you couldn’t sleep, huh?” Negan tried to keep his voice somewhat light and conversational. He got the sense that Rick wasn’t going to respond well to concern and pity. And really, he didn’t pity him. He had no idea what the fuck this guy’s deal was, and while he was a little concerned that the leader of this group seemed to be a bit unstable, he was also just…incredibly curious.

Rick’s voice was shaky, “No, I wasn’t.” He let out a soft sigh, a defeated, lost sound that made Negan’s heart ache in a way that he didn’t completely understand, “I- I thought that, after tonight, after we took them out- I thought that I’d be able to sleep again.”

Interesting. “Why?” Negan trained his gaze on Rick, who was staring blankly ahead, not meeting his eyes. He rolled the empty bottle over in his hands, peeling away the shredded remains of the label. He was silent for a long time, and Negan was beginning to think that he wasn’t going to answer when he spoke again, his voice soft.

“I keep having nightmares. About Terminus.” Rick’s face gave nothing away, so Negan pushed.

“You- look, I don’t mean to be an asshole over here, but from what I’ve been told, you’ve been through hell and back a few times now. Maggie and Glenn filled me in about all the shit that led up to your group getting separated, and I’m sure there’s a whole mountain of shit that I don’t know about.”

Rick glanced at him, just a quick look. “So?”

Negan tilted his head at Rick. “ _So_ , it’s not like this is the first time you’ve been through something like this. Hell, we managed to make it out of Terminus without anyone dying.”

“Bob’s dying in the next room as we speak. Sasha's a wreck, won't leave his side.”

“Bob is dying because he got bitten on the damn supply run.”

Rick was silent, so Negan took the opportunity to continue. “Sorry. Shit, look, I’m not making light of what happened to him. But his time was up before Hannibal Lecter and company got a hold of him. So I’m just wondering why the fuck you’re losing sleep over those people when I’m sure you’ve lost a hell of a lot more and seen way fucking worse.”

Silence stretched between them again, this time filled with a heavy tension that Negan could swear he physically felt radiating from the other man. Negan watched Rick shift uncomfortably beside him, as if weighing his options in some internal struggle.

“Rick-” Negan started.

“You saw him drag me off.”

Negan raised his eyebrows. “Yeah.” More silence. Rick was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, his face still streaked with the dry trails of tears that he hadn’t brushed away. “Did something happen?” He realized, of course, that something must have happened, or else Rick wouldn’t be bringing it up. When Rick didn’t answer again, he pushed. “What happened?”

Rick looked down at the water bottle, running his fingers along the grooves in the plastic. “He took me to a room down the hall. Had a couple of guys tie me up.” Rick’s face was flushed, though whether it was from anger or discomfort from opening up to a virtual stranger, Negan wasn’t sure. “He told me that this wasn’t something he would have done before. That he’d been a good man. That they’d tried to help people. But people had come, and all of that had changed. He’d seen what humanity could do, he said. It was ugly and merciless, and why should he have to be any different?” There were fresh tears rolling down his cheeks again, making his voice thick.

“What did he do to you, Rick?” Negan’s voice was a whisper, gentle as he could make it.

“He-” Rick shook his head, as if trying to shake the memory off. Or maybe he was just trying to stop the words spilling out of his mouth. “He forced himself on me.” His mouth twisted around the words, like saying them was physically painful for him. 

Negan swore he could taste bile rising up in his throat, “He r-”

“Yes.”

Cold fury shot through Negan like a bullet. Everything about Rick, about the whole situation, clicked into place, the pieces suddenly making a whole damn lot of sense. The brutality, the insistence on wiping them all out, the flinching away from contact- if Negan hadn’t completely backed Rick’s evisceration of Gareth before, he most certainly motherfucking did now. He felt a sudden wave of guilt for stopping Rick earlier. In fact, he was tempted to go outside, drag what was left of the man’s body out of the pile, and deliver a few blows of his own, grind what was left of that monster’s corpse into the dirt. Turn him into a bloody smear on the ground for the dead to come and dig at with rotten fingers. 

Negan had never considered himself a particularly gentle man, not even before the world went to shit. He wasn’t a monster, and he didn’t savor killing, but he could stomach it more easily that he probably should. But _that_ …that was something that had always disgusted him to his core.

He looked at Rick, at his tense shoulders and red-rimmed eyes, at this man who had spent the last day and a half in constant fear that the man who had violated him was right around the corner. He wanted to say something, anything, just to help.

“I…fuck. Jesus Christ, Rick. I’m sorry.” He words felt like ash, like nothing. What was an “I’m sorry” from a stranger in the face of that?

“I don’t know why I’m telling you.” Rick said, surprising Negan by meeting his eyes. There was so much emotion there that it felt almost invasive to hold his gaze, but Negan did anyway. It felt important to him to meet Rick’s eyes and see all the pain and rage and shame and fear there without looking away, like he was saying, somehow, that he could handle it, that he didn't think any less of him for it. That it was okay that Rick felt that way, that there was nothing to be ashamed of.

“I don’t know, either. If I’m being honest, I thought you were gonna tell me to fuck off again.”

“I guess I just…I just needed to say it. I don’t want everyone knowing. But not having anyone know feels like…it feels like it’s still giving him too much power over me.” Rick breathed out sharply through his nose, “That sounds so fucking stupid, right? He’s dead.”

“It sounds like you need a fucking shrink," Negan replied, "Which, let’s be honest here, you probably do. And I’m not fucking that, Rick. I’m an asshole, as you’ve probably noticed already, and I was never known for my fantastic skills as a shoulder to cry on, but fuck. I’m not going to fucking let you carry all that shit by yourself. Not if you don’t want to. I’m sure I’m the last fucking person in this group you want knowing all this, but I can promise you, if you need to talk or- or anything, I’ll do my fucking best.” Negan wasn’t sure where all that same from. But he meant it, every word. Something drew him to Rick like a moth to flame. It wasn’t his pain, and it wasn’t just because he was a pretty face. There was just something about him, a strength and honesty and unwavering drive that made him want to get to know this man. It was inexplicable, but there it was.

Rick gazed at him curiously, his light blue eyes scrutinizing Negan like he was trying to work out why the hell he was saying all of this. And, shit, Negan didn’t know why he was saying it. It was a strange compulsion, especially since he’d long since written off the majority of humanity as weak and not worth getting invested in. He couldn’t explain why the tears on Rick’s cheeks made him want to brush them away, couldn’t put his finger on why he wasn’t writing off Rick as another weak person who needed to be saved.

It probably had something to do with the strength that radiated from him. Even on the floor, tears in his eyes, Rick didn’t strike Negan as someone who was weak or likely to give up. He was a man who took his pain and used it to fuel him. And that impressed the hell out of Negan.

“So, uh. I guess that fucking explains why you went all Freddy Krueger on that piece of shit.” Negan said, trying to lighten the mood at least slightly. He felt like he and Rick had been staring at each other for just a little too long.

Rick tipped his head, and Negan could have sworn he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Rick’s lips. “How do you know that’s not just how I am?” He asked, “Maybe I’m just like that.”

Negan chanced a teasing smile in Rick’s direction. “Nah, I don’t think that’s you. I’m pretty sure you’re a real fucking softie.”

Rick’s reaction was immediate, and almost certainly reflexive, because the second the words left Negan’s mouth, Rick was slugging him on the shoulder, hard. Negan’s eyes shot up in surprise, and Rick, upon realizing that the gesture was a little too friendly for what they were, immediately recoiled like Negan was the one hitting _him_.

“Shit, Rick, I was fucking joking! Glenn told me that’s not how you normally handle things.” He was still smiling at Rick, he could feel it, and he probably looked like an idiot, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The fact that Rick had initiated some kind of physical contact with him- albeit a violent kind- had his mind reeling just a bit. He hadn’t seen Rick do that with anyone but his kids since he’d met him. And Rick seemed to realize it, too, because he had scooted subtly away from Negan again.

Two steps forward, one step back. It was still progress, though.

“Have you ever done anything like that before?”

Rick shot him a confused look, “Have I ever killed a man who raped me before?”

“Have you ever gone all slasher-horror on someone’s ass before tonight?”

Another long silence. Negan wished he could say he was getting used to them, but that would be a big fat lie. He was a talker, used to filling the space between him and other people with the sound of his voice, and never one for long, drawn-out awkward silences. He had a nagging feeling that Rick was, though. Rick was rhythmically screwing the cap on and off the water bottle, seeming similarly uncomfortable but also unwilling to say the words weighing on him. And then he said them anyway.

“There was a man, not too long ago. Right before we got to Terminus,” He began, “There was a group that snuck up on us. It was just me, Carl, and Michonne out there. Daryl was with the group, but he didn’t…he didn’t know. What they were. He was with them to get by after he got separated from Beth.” Right, Beth. Maggie’s sister. Maggie had talked about her a lot, was pretty damn convinced that she was dead. Seemed like a coping mechanism to Negan, but who the hell was he to judge? “They cornered us, had guns to our heads. One of them grabbed Carl. He was…” Rick shuddered, “The leader started telling me what they were going to do, to Michonne, and then to Carl, and I- I snapped. I pulled away from the gun and got into it with the leader, and when he got my arms pinned, I sank my teeth into his throat, ripped it out.”

Negan’s eyes widened. _Holy fucking shit, this guy…_

“We took them out and then I went after the guy who had Carl. He…He let him go, he was going to run,” Rick shook his head, “I could have let him go. But I couldn’t. He’d had my son on the ground…so I killed him. Slowly. Drove a knife into his gut and dragged it up to his collarbones. And then I just kept stabbing him. I couldn’t stop. After…Carl looked at me a little different, after that. I know that he knows why I did it, and I think he’s trying to be okay with it, but- fuck, that’s a lot for a kid to handle. And I forget that sometimes, that he’s just a kid.” Rick’s face was dry this time, the smoldering rage in his eyes that Negan had seen after he’d killed Gareth was back. And, fuck, Negan couldn’t blame him.

“Shit, Rick. Is it wrong that I like you more now?” Wildly inappropriate, maybe, but Negan didn’t know any other way to be. But he immediately deemed the risk to be worth it because Rick surprised the fuck out of Negan- and probably himself, too- by _laughing_ , actually laughing, and Negan was momentarily struck by how amazing the sound was and how perfect Rick looked with a big, open smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He felt strangely proud to be the one to cause all of that. It made him want to do it again.

Rick rubbed a hand over his face, looking just as surprised as Negan at his reaction. “I guess it depends on what part of it makes you like me more, me biting the guy’s throat out or me protecting my kid.”

“How wrong is it if I say both? Because the answer is both. I respect the hell out of you for keeping your family safe, Rick. I…I haven’t been the kind of guy to stick around and get attached enough to are about people like that in a long time. Maybe it would be different if it was my own flesh and blood, but I get the feeling that you’d do the same thing for any of those people sleeping out there.”

Rick’s eyes were intense again, locking onto Negan's. “I would. They’re my family, too.” His words were weighted, genuine but with an underlying threat: _there is nothing that I wouldn't do for those people, so don't cross them, and don't cross me._

Negan had no plans of doing either, especially now. “And that just…impresses the hell out of me. But you ripping a guy’s throat out with your teeth impresses the hell out of me, too. That’s just fucking badass.”

Rick looked like he wanted to laugh again, but he held back. “I, uh. I should probably get back to sleep. Or try to, anyway.” He sat the empty water bottle down and pushed himself up off the floor. Negan followed suit and they walked back out into the dark interior of the church. Everyone was still sleeping soundly, and they could still hear and see from the back room, but Rick still walked around to every sleeping person, doing a sweep of the place and making sure everyone was still there and breathing.

Negan settled back into his spot against the railing, watching Rick as he checked on his kids, pulling Carl’s blanket up over his shoulders and stroking the top of Judith’s head gently so he wouldn’t wake her.

Something tugged in Negan’s chest as he watched Rick with his kids, that same tug he felt when he saw Glenn and Maggie curled up together, or Sasha and Tyreese guarding each other’s backs. These people had were family to each other, whether by blood like Tyreese and Sasha or by bond like Maggie and Glenn, they had become a family of sorts. He’d shut that side of himself down for so long, but seeing them now, trying to squeeze the tiny droplets of happiness out of the wet blanket that was the world…he couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that wanted that.

And Rick was the one who held them all together. Rick, who was traumatized and sleep-deprived and had just been crying to a man he barely knew not more than ten minutes ago, was putting all of these people before himself even now. It wasn’t until he’d circled the room twice and checked in on Sasha and Bob to make sure the everything was alright that he allowed himself to sink back down onto his section of the floor to try to fall asleep again. He glanced up at Negan as he did so, and held his gaze for a split second before he curled up and closed his eyes.

Negan watched him as he slept again, unable to tear his eyes away. He watched as Rick’s side rose and fell with steady breaths that slowly got deeper, and he found himself willing Rick to have a peaceful sleep, because the guy fucking deserved it.

Watching him, Negan made a decision. It was impulsive, illogical, and Abraham was going to be _unbelievably_ pissed at him come tomorrow, but he was sticking to it.

He wanted to be a part of this family. He wanted to be there for Rick, as the only person who knew about what happened to him. Abraham had plenty of people to make it to D.C. now that Maggie and Glenn were going with him. So he was going to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a little longer to post, this week was kicking my ass. I'm hoping that the updates won't always take almost a week to get out, but I make no promises!


	4. Chapter 4

Rick woke up early the next morning to sunlight streaming into the church. He’d slept mostly through the night, he realized. The nightmares had still shown up, but, thankfully, he’d stayed asleep, and even if it had been a bit of a restless slumber, he still felt much better than he had the day before. The combination of a night’s rest, Gareth being dead, and, oh yeah, _opening up to Negan_ , seemed to have done the trick, because his body felt looser and less tense, his thoughts less loud and violent.

He lingered in his spot on the floor for a bit, mulling over what had happened the night before. It wasn’t like him at all to just open up to someone like that, much less someone he barely knew. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d done it, thinking back. He hadn’t planned to, but the clawing in his chest had been unbearable and when Negan had kept pressing, he just kind of…spilled.

He’d needed to say it, he knew that. Communication had never been one of his strong suits, even back before the world was like this, but he knew that keeping things like this bottled up didn’t usually work out too well. It hadn’t with him and Lori, certainly. But he’d never felt like this before, so vulnerable and scared, and he’d just needed to get it off his chest. It was just unfortunate that the person who had been around when he was ready to do that was Negan, he thought. He would have preferred it to be someone he was closer to, someone he knew he could trust. Someone who was going to still be around after today.

It felt childish to want that last part, but he did. Now that it was out in the open, and that Negan had offered to…to talk to him, to be there for him…something in him twinged painfully at the idea of the man leaving so soon. He wasn’t sure if he was going to take Negan up on his offer, but if he did, if he woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat again and needed to let some of it out…it was just too bad that the person he’d spilled his guts to was leaving for D.C. today.

He pushed away the thought of Negan and sat up to see Tyreese walking over to him, looking distressed. Rick stood to face him as he spoke.

“Bob’s…Bob’s not doing too well. He wants…to see everyone. To say goodbye.” Tyreese cast a sad glance at the back room where Bob was staying, and Rick instinctively wanted to reach out, clap a hand on his shoulder, comfort him in some small way. A few days ago, he would have. He could have. Now, his fingers twitched uselessly and remained by his side, and that was what pissed him off the most about it all. Not only did Gareth do what he did to him, but because of it, he’d left Rickfeeling isolated from the people around him, an invisible barrier between them due to Rick’s overwhelming discomfort.

“I’ll get everyone. Thanks.” Tyreese squeezed Rick’s shoulder and Rick seized up involuntarily, pulling away. Tyreese tilted his head and gave him a look.

“You alright, Rick?”

_Shit._

“Yeah. Yeah, just…still tense. After Terminus.” Tyreese nodded understandingly and left to join Bob and Sasha in the back room again, and the second his hand was no longer on Rick’s arm, Rick felt like he could breathe again. He was silently thankful that people didn’t question it, just took his words at face value, but it was only a matter of time before _I’m just tense_ wouldn’t be enough to explain why he wouldn’t let people near him. He didn’t want to think about that. The idea of everyone knowing made his skin crawl, made him feel stripped bare and exposed, like they were there watching it happen.

He shook the thought off and went to gather up the rest of the group and directed them into the back room where Bob was set up on a cot. He told Negan last, not sure how he would feel seeing the other man in the harsh light of day. It felt easier to talk to people at night, he thought. Something about the dark made it easier for him to say the things that choked him during the day.

Negan was still asleep, sprawled out on a pew close to the front of the church. His lanky frame dwarfed the narrow wooden seat, and half of his body was hanging over the edge, knuckles dragging the floor. It looked awfully uncomfortable to Rick, and he wondered how tired the man had to be to sleep so soundly like that. He bit his lip, considering not waking him up at all, but he would probably want to at least be told. He could always go back to sleep after.

Rick glanced around and spotted a bible sitting on the pew in front of Negan’s. He grabbed it and nudged the man’s shoulder with it, hoping he wasn’t a deep enough sleeper that Rick would have to grit his teeth and shake him awake.

He wasn’t. Negan stirred almost immediately, stretching awkwardly in the small space and nearly falling off the pew in the process. He looked up at Rick sleepily, his hazel eyes still heavy-lidded. “You know, there are better ways to wake me up than hitting me with the goddamned word of God.”

Rick tossed the bible back on the pew. “I wasn’t hitting you.”

“Why the fuck did you wake me up, anyway? You want another therapy session? Because I think I’m fucking tapped on sage wisdom for now, give me some time to build that shit up again.”

Rick considered grabbing the bible again and actually hitting him with it this time. “I woke you up because Bob’s in the back room dying and wants to say goodbye to people. I know you haven’t known him that long, but I figured you should probably know.”

Negan scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Fuck. Uh. Look, Rick, I’m not great with that shit. I barely know the guy, I don’t know what he’s gonna want to say to me-”

Rick frowned. So much for not thinking Negan was an asshole. “He doesn’t want to talk to you specifically. He just wants to see everyone one last time. So get up.” He turned and walked away, annoyed. Yeah, he definitely made the wrong choice in people to open up to. He wondered for a second if he’d dreamed up the things Negan said last night. They seemed uncharacteristically kind for a guy whose favorite word was “Fuck” and who couldn’t seem to find it in himself to at least try to look concerned about Bob dying.

Rick scooped Judith up out of her makeshift carseat bed and joined the group in the back room, the hair on the back of his neck prickling at being so close to so many people at once. He pulled Judith a little closer to his chest, trying to focus on her. Glancing behind him, he noticed that Negan was hovering toward the back of the group.

At least he managed to appear solemn and respectful in front of everyone else.

Rick edged to the side as people said their tearful goodbyes, Maggie coming to sit on the edge of Bob’s bed and speaking sweet words on everyone’s behalf. She was good at that, Rick realized. Encouraging people, comforting people, speaking strength into others. He felt a small twinge of pride in her as a friend. She’d always been strong, but she’d come a long way from the girl she was back at her father’s farm.

When Maggie finished speaking, she gave Bob’s shoulder a squeeze, and the group started pouring back out into the main room of the church. Sasha lingered by Bob’s bedside, and Rick’s heart ached in his chest for them. It would have been horrible enough to lose Bob at Terminus, but to make it out, only to get bitten on that supply run…guilt snaked its way into Rick’s stomach and settled there. No matter how many times they lost people, there was always that lingering question in the back of his mind of “what could I have done differently?”, haunting him.

Rick dipped his head and made to leave when Bob’s voice stopped him, raspy but strong.

“Rick.”

Rick turned, and Bob gave Sasha a quick nod. She ducked out of the room, leaving Rick and Bob together in the tiny room.

“I just wanted to thank you,” Bob rasped as Rick approached his bedside with Judith in tow, hovering a few inches away. Rick furrowed his brow.

“For what?” God, the last thing Bob needed to be doing was thanking him.

“Before the prison…I didn’t think there were any good people left. I didn’t know if there was anyone left. But you…you took me in. Because that’s what you do. You take people in.” Bob’s breathing was heavy, each word labored, sweat beading on his forehead. Rick had to look away for a moment, press a kiss to Judith’s head. “Nighmares end,” Rick’s eyes flew wide and he turned back to Bob, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. Did he know that Rick wasn’t sleeping? No, no…how could he know? Bob continued, seeming to not notice Rick’s reaction. “They shouldn’t end who you are.”

* * *

Rick stayed a few minutes longer with Bob before Sasha came back in and took his place by the bedside. He stepped out to give them some time alone together, and Carl rushed up to him immediately, looking concerned.

“Dad, you need to get outside. Negan and Abraham are about to rip each other’s heads off.”

Rick suppressed a frustrated groan and handed Judith off into Carl's waiting arms, dashing out the front doors of the church to take in the scene in front of him.

Negan and Abraham were locked in a heated shouting match in front of the church, their faces red and necks straining. A small half-circle of other members of their group surrounded them, looking at a loss for what to do. Rick couldn’t make out what the two men were bellowing at each other, just caught snippets. Abraham yelled something about _saving the goddamn human race_ , and Negan shouted something about it how _it’s not my damn job to save the fucking world_  and then Abraham’s fist was connecting with Negan’s jaw, and the whole thing became a brand new level of bad.

“Abraham!” Rosita yelled, looking pissed. Tara's eyes widened, looking like she wanted to be anywhere but there. Eugene backed further away from the scene, looking deeply uncomfortable.

Negan reeled back for a moment from the punch before tackling Abraham to the ground, shoulder to his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Fists flew, and Rick surged forward the same time that the others did, coming to a skidding halt before the brawling tangle of limbs that was Negan and Abraham. It took Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne to drag Negan off of Abraham, who immediately sprung off the ground, his pale face bloodied and left eye swollen, and charged at Negan again. Tara and Rosita threw themselves in front of him to try to ward him off as he yelled.

“I didn’t drag your sorry Danny-Zuko-lookin' ass all the way here just so you could skip off and go your merry way!” Abraham barked over the girls’ heads. “I’m trying to save lives here, and nobody seems to give half a baboon’s hairless ass about that! Why the hell are you staying here, you sack of dicks? You even got a damn reason?”

Rick saw Negan jerk out of Glenn’s grip and sprang in between them, hands out, hoping that Negan’s respect for his boundaries was something he could remember while he was charging like a bull seeing red. It was either that or he was about to get run over as Negan went for the other man’s throat.

“Stop, both of you.” He growled, trying to keep his voice as low as possible to make up for all the shouting they’d been doing. He could only hope the area was still clear enough that they hadn’t attracted any walkers.

Negan stopped inches from Rick’s outstretched palms, staring him down furiously. His shoulders heaved and his upper lip was curled in a snarl, but he stopped.

“Get out of my fucking way, Rick.”

“No, I don’t think I will. You want to tell me what the hell you two are doing?” He whirled on Abraham, who was still breathing heavy, a dark red ooze of blood trickling from his nose into his mustache. “I thought you were leaving today.”

Abraham barked out a mirthless laugh. “I am! And I’m supposed to be taking that piece of shit with me! Except now he’s saying that he’s not gonna fucking go.”

Rick frowned and turned back to Negan, trying to ignore the way Abraham’s words caused a tiny bubble of relief to form in his chest. “What’s he mean, you’re not going?”

“He doesn’t need me to go now that he’s got Glenn and Maggie going with him. They have plenty of people to get to D.C. without a fucking problem.”

“How the hell do you know we won’t have a problem? You consult your fuckin’ crystal ball or some shit?” Abraham shouted. “I don’t know how else to explain this to you people. If we get Eugene to D.C., we won’t have to worry about this shit anymore. No more dead ones walkin’ around. None of this horseshit. Now, I refuse to believe that there’s anything here that’s more important than saving the goddamned human race, but if you got something, let me hear it. I’m real interested to see what you come up with.”

Negan spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground at his feet. “Didn’t say I had anything more important. I just said I’m not fucking going. Because I’m not.” With that, he yanked the rest of the way out of Maggie and Michonne’s grip and headed back into the church, gravel crunching under his boots.

“ _You cowardly motherdicking piece of_ -”

“Abraham! Just let him stay. We don’t need him, okay?” Rosita said, shoving him back with both hands. Abraham watched Negan’s back as he disappeared inside the church doors before turning back to Rick.

“Fuck him. He’s your problem now. Have fun with him.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded square of paper, handing it over to Rick. “This is a map of our route to D.C.. We’ll stick to it as long as we can. Once we get Eugene up there, things are gonna bounce back. This group should be there for it.” He looked Rick square in the eye, the rage from a few moment before fading away, “You should be there for it.”

“We will be.” Michonne chimed in from behind him, and Rick turned to face her, Maggie and Glenn. They looked at him expectantly.

“We will.” He confirmed, nodding.

* * *

Rick watched as Maggie and Glenn left with Abraham with pang in his chest. He had a map, sure. He knew where they were going, and they had been separated and found each other again under less certain circumstances. But it still left him with a tight knot of worry to watch them go, knowing that something could happen to them on the way.

He pushed the negative thoughts to the back of his mind and reentered the church, his sights set on Negan’s dark form reclining in one of the pews. He made his way toward the other man, curiosity eating away at him as he took a seat beside Negan. The taller man was now sporting a colorful array of bruises along his left cheekbone, and there was blood smudged into the scruff on his chin, even more drying on his split knuckles.

“You wanna tell me why you ditched Abraham?”

Negan’s eyes flicked up to meet his and then scanned Rick up and down in a way that made him more than a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t particularly sexual, just…invasive. Negan had a way of making looks like that feel like the brush of a hand over him. “Maybe I didn’t want to drive all the way to D.C. with his redheaded ass. Maybe I just need a change of scenery. I’m tired of being on the fucking road all the time.”

“Is that it?”

Negan’s eyebrows raised. “It sure as shit is. What, were you thinking something else?” Rick stayed silent. He had wondered, yeah. But he wasn’t about to offer that information up. It felt like giving away too much. Negan cocked his head at him. “Did you think I was staying because of our little chat last night?”

Rick leveled him with an icy glare, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across his cheeks, and Negan laughed. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Rick, but I was never planning on staying on with Abe’s smartypants save-the-world crew in the first place. I was in it for the ride, and I told him that up front. The timing of our late night heart-to-heart was purely fucking coincidental.”

“Fine. I was just wondering. Didn’t think you’d want to stick with us.”

“Who said I’m gonna?”

Rick’s stomach dropped unpleasantly. “Guess nobody did. You can go, then.” Rick made a move to leave.

“Rick! Shit-” Negan reached out to grab Rick’s wrist and they both recoiled at the same time, Negan looking apologetic. Rick’s jaw set, his teeth clenching together. “Fuck, sorry. I’m sorry. I’m being a dick here.”

“Yeah.”

Negan cracked a small smile. “That’s my thing, Rick. And you’d better get the fuck used to it, because I am sticking around. I don’t know why I said-” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over the salt-and-pepper stubble on his face. “I don’t know why I said I wasn’t. Just being a fucking tool, I guess. But I didn’t mean it. I’m staying. I’d like to fucking stay with you guys.”

Rick loosened his jaw a bit, looking Negan up and down. “Fine.” He turned to leave again.

“Hey, Rick?”

Rick sighed. “What, Negan?”

“Thanks for letting me stay.”

Rick felt strangely touched. He got the feeling Negan wasn’t the kind of man that thanked people that often, and he appreciated the words. They were spoken with the same weight and gentleness that he’d heard last night, and it made Rick wonder if Negan was telling the whole truth about why he was staying.

* * *

Negan watched Rick’s retreating back as he walked out of the church again, their conversation weighing on him like a body slung over his shoulders. He’d lied to Rick about why he’d stayed almost instinctively, and he was glad he had. Obviously he wasn’t going to tell Abraham that the reason he stayed was because he wanted to be a part of a fucking family, but he got the feeling that Rick wouldn’t have laughed in his face like the redheaded asshole.

Still, it felt like way too much, telling Rick. He knew that if he said it out loud, it would sound like a really fucking stupid reason to stick around, and he’d end up second-guessing his choice to stay with Rick’s group, and he didn’t want to do that. Being here, being surrounded Rick and all of these people who actually cared for and protected each other- it made him want to give other people a chance again. If he was honest with himself, he’d lost faith in people a while back, after one too many losses, after seeing too many weak people get themselves killed because they let fear control them. But Rick and his group were different. They were strong, they did whatever it took to stay alive, and the slaughter last night only sealed that in his mind. These were people worth siding with.

Negan stood up and walked up the center aisle between the pews. The long red smear from him dragging Gareth’s body out last night was still there, dried on and a little smudged now, but still standing out like a wine stain on a wedding dress, twisted and wrong. He wondered how the good father felt about the Lord’s house being stained red with the aftermath of murder.

Negan approached one of the the front windows and glanced out, trying to catch sight of where Rick wandered off to. He scanned the empty front lot until he glimpsed him and Tyreese a little ways out, shovels in hand as they dug a grave for their fallen friend. He’d watched Tyreese and Sasha carry Bob’s body, wrapped in a sheet, out of the back room and into the clearing in front of the church a few minutes ago. Sasha had come back in, tears shining in her eyes, and Michonne had pulled her aside to speak to her. Sasha wielded her grief like a weapon, all anger and righteous hatred for the world, and Negan got the sense that she was someone who was going to need to be talked down a bit before she started acting out of that pissed-off sorrow.

Negan swallowed, pushing back the tiny itch of guilt for how dismissive he’d been about Bob this morning to the back of his mind. He’d been callous, he knew that. He found it hard not to be, a lot of the time. People died every damn day, and there was hungry, rotting proof of that fact wandering around outside these walls to remind them. How someone could last so long out here while getting attached to so many people, caring so damn much, was confounding to him. But these people did it. He looked over at Sasha, who was sitting at the front of the church, nodding bleakly, listening to softly spoken words from Michonne. He wondered if the loss of Bob would weaken her, or if she’d use it as a tool to make herself stronger, take his death and line her heart with it until she was tougher for it.

He wondered if there was a way to do that without becoming numb to it all.

* * *

Negan was going to get to sleep through the whole night that, which he was a little too excited about. He wouldn’t take back his conversation with Rick last night, but he’d only ended up with an hour or so of sleep because he just couldn’t bring himself to wake the other man up while he was finally getting what looked to be a full night's rest. He could have gotten someone else to do it, sure, but he hadn’t felt that tired at the time, too wired on his thoughts about what he and Rick had discussed. He’d definitely been feeling it all day today, though, and he was more than ready to settle in once it got dark. Michonne volunteered for the first watch, and he gratefully took over his pew again. Not the most comfortable, sure, but it wasn’t too bad if he laid on his side.

His gaze naturally landed on Rick as he laid down, watching as the other man rocked Judith to sleep, kissing her head and smiling when she reached up to tug at his scruffy beard. They were _cute_ , he thought with a hint of amusement. Rick looked over and he and Negan locked eyes for a moment. Negan realized he should probably be at least a little embarrassed to have been caught staring, but shame was never something he’d had much of. Instead, he dropped a dazzling grin in Rick’s direction, laughing quietly to himself when Rick narrowed his eyes at him in flustered confusion and turned his attention back to Judith.

* * *

Negan couldn’t have been asleep for more than a half hour before he was being woken up by the creak of the church’s heavy front doors. He sat up in his pew groggily, rubbing at his eyes that were positively burning with exhaustion, and was met with the sight of Michonne strolling through the front doors, two figures following her. As his eyes adjusted in the dark, he recognized one of them as Daryl…but the other silhouette wasn’t Carol’s. Rick’s voice rang out in the darkness beside him, sending a jolt of surprise down his spine.

“Daryl?” The relief in Rick’s voice was palpable, and Negan watched as he took a step toward Daryl and then came to a jerky halt, as if he hit an invisible wall. “Where were you- where’s Carol?” Rick jerked his head toward the other figure beside Michonne, who Negan could now tell was a younger male, no older than twenty, possibly even younger. “Who’s this?”

Daryl answered, his voice low and gravelly. “His name’s Noah. He knows where we can find Carol and Beth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's looking like weekly updates are about as often as I can get, but I will do my best to keep it a week or under. Also, I swear there will be actual plot progression next chapter. I realized halfway through this one that the first four chapters cover exactly one episode/one day, which is...super slow. That's what I get for not planning ahead! Yeah, the next one will cover more ground and time. Thanks so much for reading and being patient!


	5. Chapter 5

According to Noah and Daryl, Beth and Carol were being held at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta.

“There’s group of people there led by a woman named Dawn,” Noah explained to them in the low light of the church. Maggie had pulled out a few candles upon seeing the new arrivals, and the group was now huddled close together around Noah and Daryl, listening to them speak silhouetted by the flickering candlelight.

“She’s got a group of security guards to keep people in line. I got taken by them over a year ago. They attacked me and my dad, took me…left him for dead. Once they take you, you work for them. A lot of the time, they’ll injure you, knock you out or something, so that they have to fix you up, and then you’re in their debt. That’s what happened with Beth. I…I only managed to escape because she helped me. We were trying to get out together, but she got caught.” Noah’s voice was regretful and guilty. Daryl jumped in next, his eyes on Rick.

“Me and Carol, we were outside the other night, saw a car speedin’ by with the same white cross of the back as the car that took Beth, so we went after ‘em. Ended up in Atlanta, where _he_ jumped us.” Daryl jerked his head toward Noah, who put his hands up in defense.

“I didn’t know. I was just trying to get out of there, spent a year planning it, and then I ran into them. I couldn’t take any chances.”

Daryl shrugged. “Yeah. Well. He’s alright. But that fuckin’ group…they got Carol. They got Carol and Beth up there, and Noah’s gonna help us get ‘em back.”

Negan looked over to Rick, who had been listening silently, a slight distance between him and the circle of people in the middle of the church. “Tomorrow,” He said, nodding. “Tomorrow morning, first thing, we fortify this place. Take the pews, everything we can, and board up the doors and windows, make sure it’s safe. Then we leave for Atlanta, get them back.”

The next morning went just how Rick said. They went to work on the pews first, chopping a number of them up with axes and using the wood and nails to board up the windows. The organ was dismantled and the pipes were struck into the ground out front to impale any walkers that approached the church.

Gabriel, for his part, was quietly unhappy, but seemed resigned to the whole thing, watching forlornly as his church was dismantled and made into a safe haven for those that were staying behind. Michonne had surprised Negan by volunteering to stay behind with Carl, Judith, and Gabriel. He’d expected her to be the type to want to be on the front lines, with her steely resolve and, frankly, her badass weapon of choice, but she seemed to have a certain affection for Rick’s children, and sensed that her presence was needed to keep everything at the church in line. Rick seemed relieved that she was the one staying, and Negan couldn’t blame him. It was clear as day that Rick loved his kids more than anything else, and Gabriel wasn’t the most trustworthy of babysitters. It they were his kids, he’d want the badass with the katana watching out for them, too.

Negan was hammering the last of the boards over the lower half of a window when Rick’s voice sounded quietly from behind him.

“You with us today?”

Negan nearly jumped out of his skin at the drawling voice. The sound of hammering must have drowned out Rick’s footsteps as he approached, because people normally didn’t get the jump on him like that. Either that, or Rick was one sneaky little motherfucker. He collected himself and turned to face Rick after knocking the last nail into place.

“Of course, Rick. What more could I want out of a day than saving a couple of damsels in distress from some assholes keeping them locked up in an honest-to-Christ hospital of horrors?”

Rick shot him an irritated look. “Carol and Beth are…far from damsels in distress.”

“Oh, I am _fully_ aware of that. Carol’s the one who came in all gutsy and guns blazing to Terminus, right? What a fucking _woman_. If she’d had me, I think I would have married her right on the spot. Still might, actually. What’s her ring size?”

Rick rubbed a hand over his wooly face, looking caught between amusement and exasperation. Negan got the feeling he’d be seeing that look directed at him a lot. “Just try to contain your marriage proposals until after we get them back, alright?”

“You got it, Ricky boy.”

“Please don’t.”

“What, you’re not a nickname guy? Or is it just ‘Ricky boy’ you have a problem with? I can think of something else. I got a million of them.”

“Please don’t,” Rick called again from over his shoulder, “And come on. If you’re done, we’re leaving.”

Negan followed after Rick and reentered the church, grabbing Lucille from where he stashed her in the back room and joining the rest of the group out front. He watched as Rick said goodbye to his kids, that all-too-familiar ache in his chest appearing when Rick held Judith close to himself and kissed her blonde head. Rick pulled Carl in for a tight hug, hand on his neck.

“We’ll be back soon,” He promised.

Carl nodded. “I know.”

The church doors were sealed behind them, and then they were on the road, Tyreese, Sasha, and Daryl in the back of the truck, Negan and Noah in the cab with Rick. Noah was directing Rick on the best way to approach the hospital, loading him with as much information about Dawn and her group as he can.

“The guards patrol the area in shifts, kill any walkers that get too close, try to keep it as clear as they can. And there’s a rooftop spotter that’s always on the top floor of the parking garage closest to the hospital.”

“There’s a cleared-out warehouse nearby we can park at that’s out of their range but close enough that we can scope out the area. There’s a ton of buildings around, parking garages, stuff like that, that we can use to get closer. It’s not a big group, and from what Daryl’s said, you guys are tough. They’re not used to fighting groups one-on-one like this either, they always jump one or two people when they have the advantage of numbers and they can use the element of surprise.”

Rick nodded, eyes focused and determined. Negan found himself staring a just a bit, admiring the resolve on his face. It wasn’t the same brutal bloodlust that he’d seen when they’d faced the Terminus group. He looked wise, calculating, like he was already mentally mapping out scenarios A-Z in his head. It was the look of someone who knew what the fuck he was doing, and Negan liked that in a person.

Negan watched as the Atlanta skyline appeared into view ahead of them, and Rick veered off onto side roads with Noah’s guidance, weaving around wreckage blocking the narrow city roads.

“There! Right there, see it? The warehouse is right around the corner here.” Noah pointed out the Grady Memorial sign in the distance, a beacon among the bleak, long-abandoned urban buildings. Rick turned the corner and parked the truck in front of the warehouse, and the three of them exited the cab, scoping out the area and taking out a few walkers before heading inside, Sasha, Tyreese, and Daryl in tow.

As Noah had promised, the warehouse was clear, and there were plenty of windows to get a good view of the surrounding area. The group climbed the stairs to the top level, weapons raised in case of attack, though thankfully they were unnecessary.

“So what’s the plan?” Tyreese asked after they sealed off the top floor. The whole group turned to Rick, and Negan couldn’t help but feel impressed. There was such respect in their eyes when they looked at him, a trust that could have only been formed from time together, from seeing through trial by fire that Rick was a man that got shit done. It made Negan want to clap his hands in delight and demand Rick Grimes storytime where each one of these people recounted the ways in which they’d come to see just how capable Rick was, the bloodier the better.

Rick crouched down on the dirty ground, used a finger to draw out a rough tactical map.

“We’ll start at sundown. Fire off a round or two to get a couple of them out on patrol. Then, when it’s dark enough that the rooftop spotter won’t see us, we go. We can cut the locks on one of the stairways, take it to the fifth floor, that’s where Noah said Beth and Carol are being kept. I open the door, Daryl takes the guard out.”

Tyreese looked uneasy. “How?”

“He slits his throat.” Rick answered, so matter-of fact, like he was talking about what was for dinner. It made Negan’s mouth twitch into a small smile, but Tyreese didn’t seem to share the same disregard for human life that he did. In fact, he looked rather uncomfortable with Rick’s answer, but he didn’t object.

“We have to do this quiet, keep the upper hand. They’re not expectin’ us, and we have to keep it that way if we want this to work. From there, we spread out. Knives and silenced weapons only. We have to be fast.” Rick started tracing x’s into the dirt, “Tyreese and Sasha, you take these guards out,” He gestured to Daryl, Noah, and Negan, “You three take care of whoever’s in the kitchen. I’ve got Dawn. Noah said they’re smart, the rest of them will give up then. It’s six on three, seven on three once we get a weapon to Beth.”

“Thirteen on three.” Noah interjected, and Rick’s blue eyes turned up to look at him. “The wards will help.”

“That’s best case,” Tyreese said, looking concerned, “What’s worst case?” He shook his head. “All it takes is one of those guards going down the hall at the wrong time, someone seeing something they shouldn’t. Then it’s not quiet anymore. We’re talking about a lot of bullets flyin’ around. You can’t guarantee we make it out like that.”

Sasha looked impassive. “If that’s what it takes, that’s what it takes.”

Tyreese frowned at his sister. “It’s not. It doesn’t have to be. If we get a couple of Dawn’s guards, _alive_ , lure them out here, we can make an even trade. Theirs for ours. Everybody goes home. Nobody has to die.”

Rick stood, dusting off his hands on his ratty jeans and looking Tyreese in the eye. “I hear you. And it might work. But this _will_ work. I don’t wanna take any chances.”

“Nah.” Daryl interjected, and his interruption seemed to surprise Rick, his head turning to face his friend. “This’ll work too. You said this Dawn, she’s just tryin’ to keep it together, right?” He asked, indicating Noah.

“Tying and doing are two different things.” Noah answered, “She’s scared. She knows she’s losing her hold on the place.”

“You take two of her cops away, what choice does she have? She’ll trade for them. Everybody goes home. Like he said.” Daryl said, pointing at Tyreese, his eyes locked onto Rick’s.

And then all eyes were on Rick again, and Negan could feel the warring emotions rolling off of him in waves. The conflict of killing people and playing it close to the vest versus having to deal with living people and trusting that they would be cooperative was one that Negan knew all too well, and he sympathized with Rick for having to make that call. Secretly, he wanted Rick to stick to his original plan. Go in quietly, take people out one by one, get in and get out. He’d long since come to terms with killing, and the idea of trying to make a trade with another group of people they didn’t know made his skin crawl. People couldn’t be trusted, couldn’t be counted on to stick to the script, to act how you wanted them to. It would be easier to just take them out. Not that Rick’s plan didn’t pose its own risks, but he’d take them over trying to reason with a group of kidnapping cops any day of the week.

Rick turned to Noah. “Would that work? Dawn, would she trade our people for hers?”

Noah nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, she would. She needs every one of them, it’s not a big group, and people who know how to handle themselves are valuable to her. She’d need them back.”

Rich was silent for a long moment before slowly nodding. “Okay. Yeah, okay. We try it your way.”

Okay, now Negan couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“What the fuck, Rick? You gonna fucking let them push you around like that? Your plan is gonna work. If something goes sideways with this, it’s gonna be a whole hell of a lot harder to pull it off, and you know it!”

Rick rounded on him. “I’m not letting anyone push me around, Negan. I’m hearing people out. If there’s a way we can get out of this without killing people, we should give it a shot.”

“Bull. Shit. Don’t you even try to fucking tell me that you give two shits about whether or not we kill these people, Rick. I know you don’t. And I don’t either. None of you should.”

“We’re not the monsters, Negan,” Tyreese intoned, “We don’t have to be.”

“Oh, so us offing a few pricks that go around kidnapping people and using them for slave labor is _us_ being the monsters? Great, good to fucking know,” He sneered, then turned back to Rick. “It’s like you said to Gareth back at the church, Rick. They’d do this to anyone. If we leave them alive, they’re gonna do this to more people.” It was a cheap shot, bringing Gareth into this, and Negan regretted it when he saw the dark look slide across Rick’s face at the mention of his name.

“We’re doing it as a trade.” Rick said, voice firm, a warning.

“I can’t fucking believe you’re letting a couple of fucking pussies who think we shouldn’t kill assholes like this change your mind. What, you wanna hold hands and sing around the fucking campfire, too? Maybe braid each other’s hair? Yours is gettin’ pretty long, I bet you’d love that-”

“ _Negan_ ,” Rick growled, low and dangerous, “Shut up. This is what we’re doing. You got a problem with it, you can stay behind.”

“Fuck that! Nah, Rick, I’m coming. That way, when this dumb-as-fuck plan drops a deuce on you, you’ll have someone who’s actually able to stomach doing what needs to be done.”

He saw Daryl’s arm pulling back in his peripheral vision, and he ducked instinctively, the fist sailing past his head. Tyreese grabbed Daryl’s shoulder, pulling him back, and Negan doubled over with laughter.

“What the fuck, man? You don’t like being called out?”

“I ain’t afraid to do what needs to be done, prick!” Daryl shouted, jerking free of Tyreese, “Not everybody’s as goddamn trigger-happy as you. This is gonna work.”

Negan opened his mouth to retort, but Rick silenced him with a heated glare.

“Stop. Negan, if you’re with us, just shut up and stick to the plan. Can you do that?”

Negan gritted his teeth, forcing his pride down his throat. “I sure as shit can, Ricky boy.”

Rick ignored the jab, his face even. “Good.”

“So how are we gonna get our hands on her cops, huh?” Negan asked, trying to suppress his frustration.

Rick looked Noah in the eye. “How comfortable are you being bait?”

* * *

Noah was comfortable enough with being bait to follow through with it, so the plan commenced. They left the warehouse and found a cleared area nearby that Noah told them was where Dawn’s guards drove through on patrols, and they spread out, hiding nearby, ready to spring when the guards showed up.

Noah attracted the guards’ attention by firing off a couple rounds, and it didn’t take long for a patrol car to show up. Rick and Negan crouched together behind a dumpster, Rick’s Colt python gripped tightly in his hands. Noah ran down the alleyway to where they were hiding, squad car in pursuit. The car ran into Noah, not hard, but enough to knock him off balance, and Negan felt Rick seize up beside him, sucking in a breath.

“He’s fine. He’s fine.” Negan murmured, but Rick remained visibly tense beside him as the guards exited the vehicle, guns trained on Noah.

“Put it down, Noah.” The female guard barked, and Noah crouched, setting his gun on the ground, his hands out to the side in surrender as he straightened back up. The male guard approached him, zip-tying his hands behind his back, and muttered something to Noah that was too quiet for Negan to hear.

“I thought you were smart, Noah. Did you really think we wouldn’t hear you?” The woman asked.

The man kept one hand on Noah’s shoulder after binding his hands, and glanced around curiously. “Where are those rotters you were shooting at?”

Rick stood and whistled sharply, and Negan and the rest of the group descended, guns pointed at the two guards.

“Hands up,” Rick growled, taking slow steps forward, Negan flanking him on the right.

“What do you want?” The woman asked, turning her gun on Rick.

 “You do what we say, we don’t hurt you,” Rick growled.

There was only a brief moment of hesitation before the male guard let his gun drop, one empty hand held out in surrender. “Okay. We get it.” The female guard followed suit.

Rick kept his gun up, hands steady. “Good. Now put your guns on the ground and kneel.” A shudder ran through Negan at Rick’s words, at the gruff drawl of his voice and the cold stare he held the guards with as they complied. Sasha and Daryl searched them, taking their guns, while Tyreese cut Noah’s hands free.

“There’s water, food if you need some. We need to talk.” Negan looked over at Rick in surprise. He was offering these people supplies?

“Mind if I ask you something?” The male guard asked as Daryl pulled him to his feet. Rick turned to face him, waited for his question.

“The way you talk, the way you carry yourself. Are you a cop?” Negan’s eyebrows shot up and he inclined his head at Rick. Nobody had mentioned what Rick was before everything went to shit, and damn if he hadn’t wondered himself. Rick didn’t answer, just held his gaze, but his silence and stare spoke volumes.

 _Goddamn, Officer Rick Grimes. Now didn’t_ that _explain a few things._

“Believe it or not, I was, too,” The guard said.

“That’s officer Lamson. He looked out for us, back at the hospital.” Noah interjected, “He’s one of the good ones.”

Just then, a car came speeding around the corner, and Rick sprang to action, firing shots at the windshield, and Negan followed suit, taking out a window before ducking back behind the dumpster with the rest, tugging Noah with him. The driver fired off a few rounds as the two guards jumped into the back of the car and it took off again, but Sasha, thinking fast, jumped out from their cover and shot out one of their tires.

They charged after the car, rounding a corner before coming to a halt at the scene before them.

Negan had heard about the emergency evacuation shelters that had cropped up in big cities like Atlanta early on. He had never tried to get to one himself, bed he’d heard stories from other survivors about them, how people had turned up infected without knowing it, how nobody knew how to deal with the disease and it had spread like wildfire in heavily populated areas. He hadn’t expected this, though.

The whole place looked like it had been napalmed, trailers and nearby warehouses sporting massive burned-out sections, charred bodies visible through the burned holes in the buildings. On the ground, like a twisted minefield, were mostly-melted, horrifically burned walkers, most of them down to the bones with only small sections of pink flesh keeping them struck to the charcoaled ground. Negan could only imagine the kind of horrifying pain that came from dying like that.

The car the guards had escaped in was parked and empty, the doors flung wide open. They approached the area with caution, weapons up, when something rustled in front of one of the trailers. Everyone whipped around to see the two guards making a break for it.

“On me!” Rick barked, and then they were in hot pursuit, skidding around corners on their heels until there was nowhere left to run. They found themselves down a small alleyway between burned-out buildings, the guards cornered.

“You wanna try that again?” Rick asked as Negan and Sasha got a hold of the guards, grabbing their cuffs off their belts and binding their hands. Rick glanced behind him, breathing heavily. “Where’s Daryl?”

* * *

Panic flooded Rick’s mind when he realized that they were short one person. There was no sight of the man that had been driving that squad car… _fuck_.

He took off running, retracing their steps back to where they’d found the car.

_Shit, shit, let him be alright-_

Rick broke into a sprint when he heard the sounds of struggle, and saw Daryl and the third guard on the ground, fighting it out. They were way, way too close to the snapping teeth of those melted walkers for Rick’s comfort, and he took the shot, killing one of the closest ones to Daryl in hopes of spooking the man attacking him.

It worked. The guard leapt up and off of Daryl, startled, and turned toward the source of the shot. Half of his head was bloodied from Daryl’s assault, and he remained in a crouch as Rick turned his gun on him.

“Okay. Okay, you win, asshole.”

Rick took a step forward. This guy nearly ruined their whole plan. If they had managed to keep driving and reported back to Dawn, it would have all been over, just like that. He thought back to his original plan, to Negan’s vehement insistence that it would be better to just kill them all…

The man stood, and Rick kept the gun aloft. He should just kill him. Hell, that’s what he wanted to do in the first place, just take them all out, leave no witnesses, no one to escape and keep them from getting Carol and Beth back.

“Rick.” Daryl said sharply, rising to his feet. Rick didn’t drop the gun, but his resolve wavered.

“Rick. Three’s better than two.”

Rick grimaced but dropped his gun, letting Daryl bind the man. This was already going sideways. Sure, they had the guards now, but what if they hit another snag? He remembered Negan’s words at the warehouse. Negan had been less than tactful about it all, but Rick couldn’t help but doubt himself now. It had seemed like the right decision at the time, to try to take the humane approach, but hell if he wasn’t having second thoughts after this.

“You get the other ones?” Daryl asked. Rick nodded.

“Yeah. Got ‘em back there, cornered. C’mon.” He led the way back to the others, where Negan and Sasha were holding the two original guards.

“There’s a warehouse that’s not overrun back there,” Noah said, pointing past the burned out trailers. “We can stay there for a while, plan this.”

Rick nodded, “Alright, good. Let’s go.”

* * *

“Your plan’s gonna get me and my friends killed.” The female guard muttered as Negan led her into the warehouse.

“We’re gonna make it work.” Sasha replied, voice icy. Negan had a newfound respect for Sasha after seeing her in action today. She was clearly swallowing her grief and getting shit done. He regretted doubting her.

“It would work if you had different cops to trade. Dawn’s running Grady into the ground. A bunch of us want her out and she knows it. She’s smart. There’s a good chance that you can’t make this deal work, and that’ll leave us all dead.”

Fuck. He fucking _knew_ it. What had the told Rick earlier? People couldn’t be trusted to stick to the script and act how you thought they would. Alive, they were unstable. Better to deal with them dead.

“If you let us go, we’ll take care of Dawn ourselves. We’ll let your friends go, and this will be over, nobody gets hurt.”

Negan barked out a laugh. People kept saying that shit, _nobody gets hurt, everyone goes home_. How long had these people been doing this? How could they not know better than that by now?

“No. We’re not gonna do that.” The other guard said, his voice defeated, and the woman stared at him in annoyed disbelief.

“Yeah, sure as shit we’re not!” Negan replied, crossing his arms. “Like fuck are we gonna let you two go after all the trouble we went through to get you, _twice_. We have zero reason to trust that you’re gonna make good on your word. How fucking stupid do you think we are?”

The woman glared at him, “Look-”

“Just shut up.” The male guard- Lamson, Noah had said- snapped. “You can make this work. You can. But you have to be able to talk to her. My only interest here is peaceful resolution. I don’t want to die. We can all walk away from this. But you have to let me help you. Please.”

Negan gritted his teeth, looking the man up and down. If it was up to him, they’d be going back to Rick’s first plan right now. Getting these guards had been hard enough, and they’d already had one close call. It was time to fucking cut their losses, kill them while they had them at their mercy, and sneak into the hospital before anyone noticed they were missing. He had a feeling he was the only one who felt that way, though. Him, and maybe Sasha.

“Rick! You might wanna hear this.” Daryl called, and Rick joined them, followed by Noah. Daryl pointed at Lamson. “He’s got somethin’ to say about Dawn. Says he can help.”

Rick tipped his head at the man. “What makes you think we need your help?”

“Because you don’t know Dawn. I do. I’ve known her for eight years, I know how she works, how she’ll respond to something like this. And if you’re going to go through with this, you need to know, too, or else something’s going to go wrong, and someone’s going to die.”

Rick seemed to take the man’s words into consideration. “Alright. We can talk. But first-” He turned to Daryl and Negan. “Get them bound to those poles, sitting. Don’t want them slippin’ away again. Sasha, Tyreese. Go out to the car they were driving, get what you can out of it.”

“There’s not a lot in there.” The woman said as Negan led her to one of the structural columns in the middle of the warehouse, binding her to it.

“Every little bit counts. Even if it’s not much, we could use it. It’s ours now.”

Rick watched as Daryl and Negan bound the two guards, then walked over to Lamson.

“So what do I need to know about Dawn, then?” He asked, and Negan lingered a little ways behind, him, watching and listening.

“She’ll tell you she won’t make a deal. She’ll tell you she won’t compromise, but she will. She always does. Just…just know who you’re talking to. She’s proud, but she doesn’t let it go to her head. She’s always suspicious of people, doesn’t trust them. She knows what they’re capable of, because she knows what she’s capable of.”

Rick nodded, and Negan was momentarily distracted by the way his long curls shook as his head moved. He caught himself wondering how those curls would feel knotted between his fingers, how Rick would react to them being stroked…or pulled-

He blinked, looking away and reeling in his thoughts. Fuck, he needed to shut thank kind of shit down. He’d thought like that _a lot_ the first night they’d met, when everyone had been momentarily lighthearted and happy at the church, but he didn’t need to be thinking like that now, when they were getting ready for a fucking hostage exchange. And anyway, he knew how Rick would react to it- he’d hate it. Knowing why the man hated touch, why he felt the way he did- it made guilt swoop in his stomach for thinking about him like that. Rick had trusted him with something intimate, and the last thing he needed was Negan eye-fucking him every time the glanced his way.

_You can keep it in your damn pants, Negan. You can. You’re a grown-ass man, you can be friends with someone attractive without constantly thinking about fucking them._

“We’re about to head out here in a few minutes,” Rick was telling Lamson as Sasha and Tyreese returned with a small crate of supplies from the car. “Anything you need before we go?”

“Some water would be great, actually.” The man answered, and Negan could have laughed at the man’s audacity to be asking them for something, except that Rick turned around, nodded to Sasha, and answered him with a _will do_.

Negan just stared at him as he walked off to talk to Daryl, dumbfounded. This fucking guy, he thought. This fucking guy comes in, talks to these people like they’re to be trusted, offers them water…all of Negan’s inappropriate thoughts of Rick rushed out of him, replaced by annoyed disbelief. Rick constantly danced back and forth over the line between being brutal and being soft. Earlier he had been ready to kill them all, now he was offering them water, making sure they were comfortable. He couldn’t get a read on him, couldn’t figure him out. Was it all part of a bigger plan? Treat people well so that they thought you were on their side? Or did he genuinely want to be a decent person, even to people like this?

“Thanks, sergeant Lamson.” Rick said as he walked away.

“It’s Bob, actually.” Sasha’s head whipped around, grief etched onto her face. Rick paused.

“You’re still a cop.”

Lamson shook his head. “No. No, all the real ones are gone.”

Rick lingered for a moment before moving away, and Negan followed him over to where Noah, Tyreese, and Daryl were standing. He could hear the faint murmur of Sasha talking to Lamson, and found his attention somewhat divided. Rick and the rest were discussing the logistics of what would happen next, where they would make first contact with Dawn’s group, how to get their attention and tell them what they wanted without attacking or being attacked, but Negan was only half listening as he watched Sasha undo the binding on Lamson’s hands, let him up, let him point her to a window- what the fuck was she doing?

Sasha grabbed her rifle, aimed it out the window, eye to the scope, and that’s when Negan saw it- Lamson’s face, intent on Sasha’s back, not out the window. He broke into a run toward them as soon as Lamson made his move, lunging at Sasha and knocking her headfirst into the glass pane of the window, cracking it. He stumbled back and was just about to make a break for it when Negan slammed into him, tacking him to the ground.

“What the _fuck_?” He shouted, pinning Lamson to the ground. “What the fuck is this shit?”

“Negan! What’s going on?” Rick barked, suddenly beside him.

“Sasha let him loose, fuck only knows why, and he knocked her out, was about to run for it!" Negan shouted as he held Lamson down. "See, Rick, this is why I don’t fucking trust people! Always looking for an angle, always in it for number one. Nobody’s a good guy anymore.” Lamson struggled under him weakly, seeming to realized that he was outnumbered.

Rick frowned down at Lamson and pulled his gun out of the holster on his belt, jerking it at Negan in a way that indicated he wanted him to get off. He obliged, ready for Rick to put an end to this shit. Lamson pushed himself to his knees, looking down the barrel of Rick’s gun.

“You’re not gonna cooperate, are you?” Rick asked, his voice suddenly cold and steely.

Lamson glared up at him. “Look, I’m not willing to stick around in the hopes that your plan _might_ work. What happens if Dawn doesn’t take the bait? You think I want to stay here and find out what you’ll do to us then?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m trying to stay alive. Can you blame me for trying? I’ll cooperate.”

Rick cocked his head at the man. “I don’t think I believe you.”

“Rick. Come on. He’s not stupid enough to try that twice. We’ll keep an eye on him.” Tyreese said from beside Sasha’s unconscious form.

“We don’t have the time to be fucking babysitting him to make sure he doesn’t go running back to mommy Dawn!” Negan snapped, “He’s a liability. We only need two of them for an even trade.”

Tyreese frowned up at him. “What happens when Dawn asks what happened to him? You think she’s not going to notice she’s one officer down?”

“Say he got attacked by walkers.”

“Stop.” Rick interjected. “Stop. I’m not- I'm not killing him. Negan, you keep an eye on him. Seems like you’re good at that.”

“Are you fucking joking-”

Rick whirled on Negan, their faces just a couple inches apart, and Negan momentarily lost his breath at being so close to the other man. Rick, in spite of being several inches shorter than him, managed to drag Negan down to his level with just his intense ice-blue gaze.

“No, I’m not _fucking joking_ , Negan. It’s better that we have all three of them in case Dawn doesn’t buy the story of him getting attacked by walkers. We have him, you can hold him.”

Negan managed to find his voice again. “And if he pulls more bullshit?”

“Then you put a bullet in his head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a chore to write, wayyy too much rewriting the actual episode, which I'm not a fan of. I'm still trying to find the balance of writing what happens in-canon and taking my own liberties with it with this fic, so I apologize if this isn't the best. Next chapter should be more interesting.


	6. Chapter 6

“Good choice,” The female guard said as Rick approached her and the other man, Negan dragging Lamson along by the collar behind him. “This deal was already shaky. Dawn’s scared of looking weak to her people. If you’d shown up with one of us missing, she would have thought the trade was unfair. Would have gone sideways fast.”

Rick came to a stop in front of the guards and looked on as Negan shoved Lamson down beside the other two, tightening the bonds on his hands and binding his ankles for good measure in case he tried to bolt again. “We would’ve worked something the fuck out," Negan replied, "It’s an even trade, two for two. Could have said he got taken out by walkers.”

“Negan. Stop.” Rick growled, shooting the other man a glare that clearly said _drop it_. Rick watched as the man’s jaw clenched, conflict rolling behind his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut.

Rick couldn’t help but wonder if Negan was listening to him out of genuine respect, or because he thought Rick was _fragile_. The word stuck in his head like old gum on the bottom of his shoe, disgusting and hard to shake. He could only hope that Negan respected him at least a little. Partially because the idea that he was only humoring Rick because he saw him as a victim was degrading, and partially because he knew that if he didn’t actually have the man’s loyalty, it was only a matter of time before all that aggression and bloodlust that he’d shown toward Lamson and Abraham would eventually turn on him once the strength of his disagreement overtook the pity.

It wasn’t a thought he relished, but he knew that, if things did come to blows between them, he would come out on top. He had the strength of numbers behind him, and if Negan tried anything, confidant or not, Rick wouldn’t hesitate to end things. He knew that about himself, that he was capable of doing what needed to be done, and even if it wasn’t a particularly happy thought, it was a comforting one. It was a trait that he had most likely started cultivating the moment he’d killed Shane all that time ago. It was born of brutality and distrust and a certain coldness that should have scared him more than it did.

But it was necessary. So he accepted it as a gift, grateful that had had what it took to protect himself and the rest of his family.

Tyreese appeared beside him, followed closely by a now-conscious Sasha. “So,” He said, turning to Rick, “What’s the plan?”

Rick surveyed the three guards in front of him, detailing a course of action in his head. He looked to the female guard, who had by far been to most helpful so far. “We need to get in touch with Dawn, let her know what we want and who we have. Think you can help us with that?”

The woman nodded, eyes steely with resolve. “Yeah. I can help with that.”

Rick crouched down to her level, looking her in the eye, tilting his head fractionally as he waited for her to expound.

“You can’t just walk into the hospital,” She began, and Negan’s voice sounded from his place above Lamson.

“We’re not fucking stupid, you know-” Rick’s eyes slid up to his, and Negan fell silent at the warning look on his face.

The guard continued. “The squad cars have radios that Dawn uses to communicate with all the guards. You need to confront one of the patrols, _peacefully_ , let them know what you’re proposing, and tell them to radio Dawn.”

Rick nodded. “Alright. Where do they patrol? We need somewhere where we can set up a vantage point, have people watching with guns, ready to fire if anything goes down.”

“There’s a parking garage that they drive to the top of. There’s a taller on next to it, you can look right down on it from there.” She paused, looking wary. “You have to do this peacefully, though. If you come at them as a group, or if you look like you’re going to get aggressive, they won’t hesitate to shoot first and ask questions later.”

“That’s why I’m going to confront them alone. Everyone else will be on the roof for backup.”

Negan made a sound of protest, and Rick’s head jerked up to meet his eyes again. “Rick, that’s fucking insane. If they get aggressive-”

“Then Sasha or Daryl will take them out. They’re both good shots, “ Rick replied, rising up to his feet. “And I’m gonna need you to keep _them_ in line,” he said, indicating the guards kneeling on the concrete floor. “Only takes one of us to talk to them. It’ll look better if it’s just one, anyway.” When Negan nodded, Rick turned back to the guard. “Thank you. What did you say your name was?”

“Shepherd. Amanda Shepherd.”

* * *

A half hour later, Negan, Daryl, Tyreese, Noah, and Sasha were on the top level of a parking garage, overlooking the roof of a shorter garage where Rick was waiting to make his move. Negan and Daryl tugged the officers out of the car and onto the pavement, pulling their guns and keeping them trained steadily on the guards once they were on their knees. Sasha and Tyreese were standing near the edge of the roof, talking too low for Negan to overhear. Sasha had her rifle propped up on the cement wall, looking down the scope as Tyreese spoke.

The female guard- Amanda Shepherd, she had told them- had given them the information they’d needed to get in contact with Dawn. Now, all they had to do was wait for the patrol to show up.

Negan stood tersely beside Noah, gun pointed at Shepherd. He didn't relish killing or threatening women, but he figured he'd have an easier time doing it than the kid beside him if things came down to that. After a few minutes, Tyreese abandoned his conversation with his sister and walked over, swapping out with Daryl the other man could join Sasha by the wall, rifle up in case of emergency. Negan shot a quick glance over at Tyreese, who had been dodging his eyes since their earlier argument.

_Fuck. I’m gonna have to make nice if I plan on sticking around, aren’t I?_

Negan shifted uncomfortably before speaking. “Hey. About earlier-,” Tyreese turned toward him, looking surprised that Negan was addressing him. “I was just- I’m not used to shit like that. People who want to take the fucking high road, I mean. I was with a lot of scared people for a long time, saw how they hesitated when it came to making the tough choices that were the right choices. Saw how that hesitation got them killed.”

Tyreese looked pensive, brows knitting together. “That’s the thing, though. I’m not scared. It’s not about being scared. It’s about trying to keep yourself, even now. Even out here, when it’s easy to be something else.”

“Being scared of becoming something else is still being fucking scared.”

Tyreese shrugged. “I can do what needs to be done. If Rick’s plan was the only way we could have gotten this to work, I would have followed him. I just don’t think that that should be our go-to solution to every problem.”

Negan contemplated that, nodding. “I get that. I really fucking do, but a lot of the time, the easiest thing to do is just to go in, guns blazing, and take people out before they get the chance to turn on you.”

“Easier in some ways, maybe.”

Before Negan could respond to that, Daryl, looking out over the concrete edge of the wall, snapped his fingers once, and Tyreese pressed the button on the radio in his hand. “They’re headed toward the vantage point.”

Rick’s staticky voice buzzed on the other side of the line, “Okay. Copy that.”

Then it was a waiting game while Rick talked to the guards, and it wasn’t until Sasha fired off a single round and Negan’ heart stopped cold in his chest that he realized he’d been holding his breath.

_Shit, Rick-_

Keeping his eyes on Shepherd, he backed up to where Sasha and Daryl were, glancing out at Rick and the patrol guards. Rick was fine, standing unbothered as the two guards made their way to their car. Relief that he didn’t fully understand flooded his chest.

“The hell are you doin’?” Daryl grunted, still looking down the barrel of the rifle.

“What were you firing at?”

“It was a walker. Don’t get your damn panties in a twist. What do you care, anyway? This goes sideways, _you’re_ not losin’ nothin’.”

There was an edge to Daryl’s words, and Negan backed off, wondering why he had reacted the way he did to the possibility that Rick was being attacked by the guards. He also briefly wondered why Daryl had gotten so defensive. The way he had emphasized the word _you’re_ made Negan think that Daryl had a lot on the line if something happened here. He thought back to earlier, how quick Daryl had been to jump in and back up Tyreese when he thought Rick’s plan might not work. How Rick had looked at him with a note of surprise, like he wasn’t used to Daryl questioning him or worrying about the ramifications of killing people.

Maybe it was something he could ask the other man about later. After all, he still needed to smooth things over with him like he had with Tyreese. Negan inwardly groaned at the thought. Having to deal with patching up the aftermath of harsh words was part of the reason he had been happy with travelling on his own for a while. He had never been one to pull his words, and his ability to ruffle feathers and say _just_ the wrong thing had been a gift of his long before the world went to shit.

The crackle of radio static jolted him out of his thoughts, and Rick’s voice came through again:

“Good to go. Meet me the east entrance.”

* * *

Less than ten minutes later, they were at the east entrance with Rick and the two patrol guards, leading the three guards down a darkened hospital hallway to make the exchange. Negan suppressed a shudder, feeling vaguely itchy and claustrophobic. Even now, having been abandoned and retaken by a group of kidnapping cops, the hospital retained that oppressive, sterile feeling made Negan’s skin crawl. It made him flash back to endless days spent in the hopeless environment with his wife, back when she was alive, before cancer had taken her away. That had been a couple ago years now, and still he wanted to turn tail and make way for the nearest exit as soon as he stepped inside.

He shook the unpleasant memories off, guiding Shepherd down the hall with a hand on her shoulder. Beside him, Rick shot him a small look, having caught the shudder.

“You alright?”

Negan cursed himself silently. “Yeah. Don’t fucking like hospitals.” He felt Rick’s pale blue gaze linger on him for a handful of tense moments, and he found himself glancing over to meet his eyes. He regretted it immediately, because what he saw there was an intense, searching look that bore into him like a drill. He looked away quickly, not sure what Rick had seen on his face, but sure that his perceptive stare had picked up on _something_.

They climbed a few flights of stairs to the fifth floor, and then they were at a pair of double doors. Barely visible through the small glass windows was a group of people at the end of a stretch of hallway. Rick stepped around Negan and peered out at them for a moment before one of the guards’ radios buzzed to life with the sound of a woman’s voice.

“Holster your weapons.”

Rick nodded to the group and they complied. Once all guns had been returned to holsters, the patrol guards pushed the doors open and their group spilled into the dim hallway. The other group was small, three officers beside a tense-looking woman that Negan guessed was Dawn, and what looked to be doctor in a white coat lingering in the back. In the middle was Carol, sitting in a wheelchair. Behind her was a young blonde girl that Negan could only assume was Beth.

“They haven’t been harmed.” Rick called over to Dawn. Negan watched as the woman nodded, looking the group over.

“One of yours for one of mine.” She said.

“Alright.” Rick jerked his head at Daryl, who led one of the male guards to the center of the hall. Carol was rolled over by one of Dawn’s men and brought to their side by Daryl. The same with Beth, Dawn leading her over to Negan and Sasha as they led Lamson and Shepherd to the center of the room.

When Negan turned back, he noticed Daryl, one hand on Beth’s shoulder and one on Carol’s. It was the most affection he’d seen Daryl show, and the man’s perpetually unhappy face looked a bit softer in the presence of the two women.

He thought back to earlier, how Daryl had sounded like he’d had a lot riding on this trade working out. Seeing him now, beside Carol and Beth, Negan realized just how much.

“Glad we were able to work something out.” Dawn said as they moved to leave. Rick glanced over his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Now I just need Noah.”

Rick stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing as he turned back to Dawn. “We just gave you three of your people for two of ours. Noah was never part of the deal, but if you’re trying to change the terms now, I think we’ve already made a fair exchange for him.”

“Noah was my ward. Beth took his place and now I’m losing her, so I need him back.”

“M’am, please-” Started Shepherd, sounding on edge.

“ _Shut up_.” Was Dawn’s hissed reply. “My officers put their lives on the line to find him.”

Noah moved forward, and Daryl put a hand to his chest, stopping him short. “He ain’t stayin’”

“He’s one of mine, you have no claim on him.”

“He wants to go home, so you have no claim on _him_.” Rick snapped.

“Then we don’t have a deal.”

_Fuck, what the hell is this woman's problem?_

“The deal is _done_. One for one. That’s what you got. Noah’s coming with us.” Rick snarled, and Beth moved forward, as if to make toward Dawn, and Negan caught her by the shoulder, his grip tight. He noticed how Dawn’s fingers twitched next to her holster, and apparently so did Rick, because his posture changed, suddenly agitated and aggressive.

“You want to make this messy? You got three back, we got three back. The people here aren’t yours. _Noah_ isn't yours. We’re leaving. With him.” There was a tense silence where Rick and Dawn held each other's gazes, and then Rick turned to leave. They took one step, and then there was the click of a gun hammer that made Negan's heart speed up, and Rick whirled back on Dawn.

The gunshot rang out in the hallway with an echoing bang, and there were a few shouts of surprise and fear. Negan shoved Beth behind him instinctively and spun around to see Rick stumbling back, Dawn’s pistol still pointed at him.

“Rick! Shit, Rick!” Negan yelled as Rick crumpled, eyes wide as he clutched his shoulder. Blood pooled between his fingers, and Negan shot forward without a second thought, catching Rick under the arms before he hit the floor. Rick’s eyes blew impossibly wider, and he tried to jerk out of Negan’s grip, only to have his shoulder jostled by the movement. His face contorted in pain, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of his bottom lip.

Negan was vaguely aware of the hallway erupting into chaos around him, of Daryl shouting at Dawn, and then there were shots being fired and Negan was throwing Rick over his shoulder and making a break for the door, Daryl and Sasha firing deafening shots in the darkened hallway behind him as they ran.

Rick was shoving weakly at Negan’s shoulder with his good arm, muttering slurred words that Negan was sure were curses directed at him, but he kept going. He was pretty sure the whole no-touching thing flew out the window when Rick was mortally wounded. He felt Rick’s body start to go slack against him, and his heart sped up.

“You’re fine, Rick, you’re fucking fine! Stay with me, you prick!”

The group spilled out of Grady Memorial and into the front parking lot only to be met with a surprising sight: Abraham’s D.C. team, plus Michonne and Gabriel, approaching the hospital with weapons raised. Maggie, upon seeing Beth, gave a cry of delight and rushed forward, pulling her sister into her arms, fingers stroking her tangled blonde hair.

“I thought you were dead, I thought- we went back to the church and Michonne told me that you were alive, that they'd gone to get you back…”

Negan grunted, shifting a semi-conscious Rick in his arms. “Look, I don’t meant to interrupt this truly fucking touching Kodak moment, ladies, but I need some fucking help, _now_. Where’s the fucking truck, I need to lay him down and see what the damage is before he fucking bleeds out in my goddamn arms!”

Maggie's eyes widened in horror as she took in Rick's bleeding form slung over Negan's shoulder, and Glenn swung open the back of a fire engine parked a few feet away. “Here, put him in here, we’ll start driving you back.”

Abraham reached out to help Negan load Rick into the backseat and Negan jumped in behind him, pausing to yell out at the rest of the group before he swung the door shut.

“And the rest of you, get the fuck out of here! Did you all forget there were people shooting at us not one goddamn minute ago? Fucking _move_!” He slammed the car door behind him as everyone scattered toward various cars in the lot.

Abraham, Rosita, and Tara slid into the front seat of the truck, and Negan could only assume that Maggie, Glenn, and Eugene had hopped on the back, but right now they were the last things on his mind. His focus was entirely on the bleeding man laid out on the seat in front of him.

“There’s got to be a fucking first aid kit in here, right? Someone fucking find it, now!” Negan snapped as Abraham started up the engine and took off out of the parking lot. Negan slid both hands under Rick and pulled him off the seat just enough to start tugging his sweat-and-blood-soaked shirt over his head. Rick pushed weakly against his chest, trying to squirm away.

“ _S-stop, please…_ ” Negan felt his heart squeeze uncomfortably in his chest, but kept going, hating the flickering fear in Rick’s hazy blue eyes, hating that he was the one causing it.

“It’s okay, Rick, it’s fine, I swear, I’m sorry, I’m just trying to help-”

“N- _no_ -” Rick groaned out as Negan finally succeeded in getting his shirt over his head. He tossed it onto the floor of the rig and glanced up into the cab.

“Where the fuck is that first aid-”

“Here! Right here!” Tara answered, thrusting the plastic box into his hands. He wrenched it open and surveyed the scant contents: one half-full bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a roll of gauze that he could only hope was still sterile, some loose bandages, and- perfect! A suture kit that looked to be untouched.

He set the kit on the seat beside him and turned back to Rick. The would on his shoulder was still seeping blood, but the flow had mostly trickled off, which was good. However…

Negan slid one hand under Rick’s injured shoulder. Shit. No exit wound.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. This was going to be harder. He had to get it out before anything else.

“Any of you got water? Clean water.”

Rosita handed him back a mostly-full bottle. “How bad is he? What the hell happened in there?”

Negan unzipped his jacket and tugged off his own shirt, which was somewhat cleaner than Rick’s filthy gray one, and started cleaning up the entry would best he could, gritting his teeth when Rick grimaced in pain.

“The bitch running the place shot him. The bullet’s still lodged in his shoulder.”

“Do you…know what to do? How to get it out?” Tara asked, voice worried as she glanced into the backseat.

“In theory, sure. I’ve seen people do it before. But…”

“But what?”

“But I’ve never had to fucking take a bullet out of someone before! Seeing and doing are two different things! I know how to stitch him up after, I just…need to get to that part.”

“I’ll talk you through it.” Abraham’s gruff voice made Negan raise his eyebrows in surprise, but he didn’t question it. “You got a knife back there? Clean one? And something to tie his arm off with?”

Negan dug into his pocket for his knife, pulling it out and wiping the blade down with a small amount of the antiseptic. “Yes and yes.”

Good. Tie his arm off best you can, above the wound.”

“It’s on his shoulder.”

“Then tie off his shoulder close as you can get it, dumbass.”

Negan gritted his teeth, biting back a retort. _Now isn’t the time to be getting into another brawl with Sargent Dickhead…_

Instead, he swallowed his annoyance and used his shirt to tie off Rick’s shoulder best he could, tearing strips off of it so that he could keep a bit of pressure around it and staunch the bloodflow. Rick was still conscious, but dizzy and weakened from the shock and blood loss. His discomfort as Negan pressed on his shoulder was written clearly across his face, and Negan knew it wasn't just from the pain.

“Got it tied off.”

“Can you feel where the bullet is? Is it deep?”

Negan swallowed, looked at the ragged hole in Rick’s shoulder, and decided to just bite the bullet, as it were. He plunged a finger into the wound, and probed around, gently as he could. Rick gasped, just in pain this time, and tensed under Negan’s hand.

 _Shit, fuck, where is it,_ _where is it_ -

His finger touched something hard, and his fingers circled it to make sure it was the bullet and not bone. He felt it shift, just slightly.

_Fucking bingo._

“Found it. It’s not that deep.” _Thankfully._

“Good. Next part’s pretty straightforward. Just use the knife to get it out of him.”

“Oh, fucking fantastic, yeah, I’ll just do that.”

“And don’t cut him up too bad while you’re in there. If you hit an artery, he’s going to start bleeding out real fast, and then we’ll be up shit creek with our mouths wide open. You gotta keep him still, it’s gonna be a whole hell of a lot harder if he moves. Rosita, you’re gonna want to hold his other shoulder down.”

She obeyed before Negan could stop her, and Rick, upon feeling himself being pinned against the seat, jerked back, eyes wide with panic.

“What the fuck-” Rosita started, and Negan nudged her away.

“I’ve got this. Seriously. Rick, you gotta stay still for me, alright? I’m going to get that bullet out of you, but you can’t move. Can you do that?”

Rick was shaking a little, still looking like a cornered animal, but he nodded. “Yeah. Just do it.”

Rosita shot Negan a warning look. “If he moves-”

“He’s not gonna move. He’s a big boy, he can handle his shit.” She slid back in her seat, eyes on him as he set his knife against Rick’s shoulder.

“Rick-”

“Just get it the fuck over with, Negan.”

Negan didn’t need to be told twice. Using one finger as a guide to find the bullet, he edged the tip of the knife into the wound, a little at a time, until he could feel metal scraping metal. He maneuvered the knife around the bullet, beginning to work it out between his finger and the blade. Rick hissed in pain, but stayed still, his body rigid, beads of sweat forming at his hairline.

“Almost there, Rick, it’s almost out, just give me a few more fucking seconds.” Blood oozed around his finger, leaking fresh down Rick’s arm. Negan panicked for a moment, overcome with fear that he’d nicked an artery, but then the bullet was out. Negan dropped it onto the seat and immediately grabbed the rest of the shirt scraps, pressing them to the wound.

“Got it.” He breathed, voice shaky.

“Good,” Abraham grunted, “You got it from there?”

“Yeah, I got it.” He looked down at Rick. “I gotta clean it up, and then I’m gonna need to stitch it.”

Rick nodded. “Go on, then.”

Negan snatched up the peroxide and one of the clean sections of his shirt, soaking it. His hand hovered above Rick’s wound for a moment. “You want something to bite down on? This is gonna sting like a bitch and a half.”

“Just fucking do it or I’ll bite _you_.”

Negan’s face split into a wide, teasing grin at Rick’s words. “Oh, Rick, I would not mind that one bit.”

The murderous look on Rick’s face was almost worth the punch to the ribs he received for his comment.

“Stop fucking around and do it, Negan.” And then there was a flash of something different in Rick’s eyes as he looked at Negan. He pulled his hand back from the jab a little too fast, like he’d been the one who’d gotten hit, and his gaze was glued to Negan’s hand hovering above his bare shoulder.

Guilt flooded Negan instantly when he realized that Rick’s insistence on Negan doing this quickly had nothing to do with the burn of the antiseptic or the sting of the stitches. The man’s whole body was tense, coiled like he wanted to flee but couldn’t.

Negan refocused, pressing the cloth to Rick’s shoulder, and Rick hissed quietly between his teeth as Negan cleaned the wound as quickly and efficiently as possible. As soon as he was done, the suture kit was in his hand and he was setting to work threading the needle.

Rick caught on to Negan’s change in demeanor, and it seemed to make him relax slightly as well. He eyed Negan’s hands warily as he set to work stitching up the gash.

“How’d you learn to do that?”

“I was traveling with a nurse for a bit, early on. I asked her to teach me some things, figured it’d come in handy. Just simple stuff, stitches, splints, setting bones, refresher course on cpr. I’m no Hawkeye, but I picked up a few things being with her.”

Rick made a noise of approval. “You ever done this before?”

“On another person? No.”

“Good to know I’m in capable hands," Rick jabbed, giving a weak smile.

Negan chuckled. “I’ve stitched _myself_ up, though.”

Rick made a noise of surprise. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I was with this group, one of the bigger ones I was with before I met you guys. Handful of people, the leader was a regular dick and a half, but he and his buddies talked big shit, so they had a few people- weak people, _scared people-_  who flocked to them thinking they could give them some kind of protection. As it turned out, they couldn’t, and when push came to shove, that fuckin’ prick grabbed this tiny girl- couldn’t have been older than sixteen or seventeen- and shoved her at a group of walkers to try to save himself.”

Rick sucked in a sharp breath, and Negan’s fingers froze mid-stitch. “Shit, sorry. I pull too hard?”

Rick shook his head, “No, just- what you said.”

Negan resumed his work on Rick’s shoulder, frowning. “Yeah. Worthless sack of chicken shit if I ever saw one. Girl got ripped to fucking shreds, screaming as she went down.” Negan gritted his teeth at the memory. “One of the grossest fucking things I’ve ever witnessed. When we got the walkers cleared out, I went apeshit on his ass. I was about ready to beat that sorry fucker’s face into the dirt when a couple of his fuckwit pals pulled me off him. He came at me with a knife, got me here,” Negan tapped the right side of his face, indicating the thin scar across his right cheekbone, “Told me to get lost, I told him I was already gone. We were close to a gas station, we’d been there earlier to clear it out. I grabbed my shit and went there, stitched up the side of my face just so it’d stop fucking bleeding everywhere.”

From the front seat, Abraham whistled. “Hot damn! You should really introduce yourself with that story. Makes you seem like less of an asshole.”

Negan snipped the end of the thread and tied it off, dabbing at the stitches with antiseptic one last time before wrapping the wound in gauze. “You saying you like me now, Red?”

Abraham snorted. “Fuck no. Just sayin’ you should keep that in mind next time some poor bastard has to meet your sorry ass.”

Negan chuckled as he finished wrapping Rick’s shoulder. As soon as he was done, the other man pulled away, crowding himself as far back in the opposite seat as he could go. He dodged Negan’s eyes, discomfort radiating off of him in waves.

“Thanks.”

Negan dipped his head at him, trying to ignore how Rick's skittishness tugged at something in his chest. "No fucking problem, Rick."

* * *

They drove for a while, putting distance between themselves and the hospital. Abraham led the way in the rig, the others having piled into vans and cars they’d found back at the hospital. After Negan got done with Rick’s shoulder, it hadn’t taken the man long to nod off, leaning against the glass of the window. He was still shaking slightly, even in his sleep, and Negan wasn’t sure if it was from shock or if he was slipping back into a nightmare. Regardless, he fished out a ratty shock blanket from under one of the truck’s seats and tucked it around him gingerly, avoiding waking him or touching him directly. He couldn't help but notice that Rick didn't look peaceful, even in sleep. 

Night crept up on them slowly, and they came to a stop on the side of the road, parking the cars in a semi-circle to block off the area best they could. Rick startled awake when the front door of the truck slammed behind Rosita as she got out. His eyes were wide until they settled on Negan, and he seemed to relax, just a bit, coming back to himself.

“Where are we?”

“A few hours outside Atlanta. We’re just stopping to rest up, get our bearings.” Negan looked Rick over. “How’s the shoulder?”

Rick tried to move it, and even in the low light, Negan could see him wince. “Been better.” He met Negan’s steady gaze, his blue eyes piercing even in the dark. “Thank you. For stitching me up.”

“No problem. Sorry that I…had to touch you.” Rick looked uncomfortable at the subject, even more so when he shifted away from the door and the blanket slipped off his still-bare shoulder. Negan's gaze followed it almost unconsciously, and Rick jerked the blanket back around him, looking horribly vulnerable. Negan felt a stab of guilt for being momentarily distracted by the sight of Rick’s skin.

“I, uh. Your shirt’s on the floor somewhere, but it’s a goddamn mess. You want me to go get your shit from Carl? I’m guessing you have a spare.”

Rick looked momentarily torn between walking out to get his shirt wrapped in a blanket, or shirtless, or just letting Negan help him. Negan decided for him, hopping out of the truck and making his way through the small gathering of people over to the car that Carl was leaning against.

“Hey, kid. You know where you dad’s bag is?”

Carl nodded, pointing to a black one in the backseat, “Yeah, that one. Why? Is he okay? Beth said…said he got shot.” There was a note of worry in his voice under a layer of bravado, and Negan ached a little for this kid that had seen so much while he was still so young.

“He did. He’s fine. Fuckin’ bitch running that hospital got him in the shoulder. I pulled it out of him, patched him up. He’ll be alright.” He fished the bag out of the car and slung it over his shoulder.

“Can I see him? Is he…awake?” Carl asked, looking up at Negan from under the brim of his hat.

“Yeah, kid, knock yourself out. Take this to him while you’re at it." He thrust the bag into Carl’s hands and watched as the kid headed over to the truck.

* * *

Rick clutched the blanket tightly around himself, watching at Negan slid out of the seat across from him.

_Pathetic. You can’t even go get your own damn shirt?_

Rick squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to calm down. He wondered which would happen first: the nightmares going away altogether, or him getting used to them enough that he didn’t feel like his heart was about to beat straight out of his chest when he woke up from them.

Admittedly, it hadn’t been as bad today, which he was grateful for. No waking up every hour in tears, which would have been hard to explain to Abraham and the rest of the people in the car.

“Dad?”

Rick’s eyes snapped open at the sound of his son’s voice, and he couldn’t help but smile just a little when Carl clambered into the cab with him, holding out his bag.

“Negan said you needed this,” He eyed Rick’s shoulder, looking wary. “You…you got shot. At the hospital. Are you…?”

Rick shook his head and accepted the bag, rummaging through it to pull out a clean shirt. “I’m okay. I’m alright, Carl.” He tried to prove it by holding back the grunt of pain that threatened to escape when he pulled the shirt over his head. “What happened at the church? Where’s Judith? Are you both alright, is everyone-”

“Everyone’s fine, dad. Judith’s with Beth.” Carl smiled, “I think she missed her.”

Rick nodded, the knot of worry in his chest loosening a bit. “What happened with the church?”

“Gabriel. We boarded it up after you left, but he pulled up some floorboards and ran off to the school. Attracted a whole bunch of walkers and brought them back with him. We had to lock them inside. We were lucky Abraham and Rosita showed up when they did.”

Rick frowned. The church had been the first bit of sanctuary they had seen in a long time. It had never seemed like a permanent solution, but it had been  _something_.

“Were are we gonna go now, dad? Do you know yet?”

Rick thought for a minute, remembering something Noah had said during the drive to the hospital. “Maybe. I’m not sure yet. But maybe. I need to talk to Noah first. He out there?”

“Yeah, they made a fire. I think Daryl went out to try to catch something to eat.” Carl moved to leave, only to be pulled into a brief hug by Rick. He hugged him back for a moment before sliding out of the seat. “I’m glad you’re okay, dad.”

Rick smiled and watched him go. He glanced back down at his bag and pulled out his jacket, slipping into it and opening the door, only for the blanket to fall out and onto the ground. He stooped to pick it up, clutching it for a moment.

 _I didn’t fall asleep with this_ , He realized. _Negan…Negan put it on me._

Normally, the thought of anyone other than his kids touching him made him want to cringe and shrink away, but for some reason, the idea of Negan tucking the shock blanket over him as he slept didn’t make him uncomfortable. It was an oddly caring gesture.

 _Or maybe not so odd_ , he thought as he tucked the blanket back into the cab. Negan had seemed genuinely apologetic about having to touch him today. When Rick thought back on how he’d reacted to Negan’s hands on him as he’d tried to fix Rick’s shoulder up, he felt a twinge of embarrassment. In the moment, everything had been a hazy blur of pain and discomfort with pinpricks of fear thrown in, and the only things he could think about were the sharp, throbbing pain in his shoulder and the way Negan tugging his shirt off had caused some…less than pleasant flashbacks. Now that his mind was clear, the shame of having been so open about his discomfort, trying to pull away, telling Negan to stop in that pathetic whine…

He slammed the door of the truck closed, trying not to think about it. It’s not like anyone would bring it up, anyway. They probably just thought he was delirious from the pain. He walked over to the group huddled around the fire. they were all leaning against each other on the ground or sitting sideways out of the sides of the cars, shoulders pressed together. Irrational anger and jealousy flared in his chest at seeing everyone so close, at seeing the easy way that even new recruits like Tara and Abraham threw their arms around other people, playfully nudged at shoulders, put hands on arms as they laughed. He suddenly missed being close to his friends- _his family_ \- like that more than he could say. He tore his eyes away and made his way over to Beth and Judith, leaning down to kiss his daughter on the head before addressing the girl holding her.

“Glad we got you back,” He murmured, stroking Judith’s soft curls has he spoke. Beth tilted her head up, giving him a bright smile.

“Me, too. Once Noah escaped, I…I was worried that maybe I missed my shot. But I was glad he got out. I can’t believe how lucky I was that he ran into Daryl and Carol. I can’t believe I’m really back here with everyone, with Maggie and Glenn. Thank you. For coming to get me.”

Rick nodded, “Of course. We don’t leave people behind.” Beth reached out and gave his arm a quick squeeze, and he flinched. She picked up on it immediately, pulled her hand back with an inquisitive look. Self-hatred burned hot in Rick’s chest as he straightened, eyes darting away from Beth’s to seek Noah.

“Thanks for watching Judith,” He muttered as he walked away.

_Beth. Even Beth, an eighteen year old girl, can’t touch me without me reacting like that._

He was grateful, at least, that the lingering trauma didn’t extend to his children. He’d been given that much mercy. He tried to think of the last time he’d touched someone other than them willingly. I must have been before Terminus-

Oh. Wait. It wasn’t, actually. It was today, when Negan had made that comment about not minding biting. He had reached out and hit Negan in annoyance, without even thinking about it. He’d ripped his arm back like he’d been burned less than a second later, but he’d still done it. He'd done that before, too, during the first night he and Negan had talked. And today, when Negan had been patching him up, after the initial shock of being touched had worn off, the contact hadn’t been completely unbearable. He'd pulled away as soon as he could, but by then a lot of his discomfort had faded.

Maybe that was the key to getting over it, he thought. Just grinning and bearing it until it went away. Thinking about doing that, though, about letting everyone just touch him like normal until he just _got over it_ made him want to scream and curl into a tight ball in hopes of disappearing completely. _Maybe_ \- maybe he just needed baby steps? Small things, just one person to let closer, one person who understood his limits, who knew what it meant when he flinched.

Someone like Negan.

He decided to mull that over later. For now, he needed to figure out what they were doing next. He found Noah sitting sideways out of the backseat of one of the cars and leaned against the door.

“When you left the hospital, where were you planning on going? You said something on the drive to Grady, mentioned trying to get back to your family. You know where they are?”

“Yeah. Yeah I was going to grab a car and go to Virgina. Richmond. When they took me and my dad, we’d been living in our same neighborhood, because it was gated off. A lot of people evacuated when everything hit, but we stayed, and it worked. The wall was still holding when we left, there were about twenty or so people living there, figuring out how to survive.”

That all sounded great, but...

“You said you’d been taken almost a year ago.”

Noah sighed and looked at the ground, scrubbing the toe of his sneaker into the dirt. “Yeah. I know- I know it’s a long shot that they’re still there, but it’s possible, right? I mean, they had a wall. They were getting stronger.”

“Yeah,” Rick said, voice almost wistful. “Yeah, it’s possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By far one of the best things about fanfiction is that it gives you the power to undo stuff you hated in the canon. Like Beth dying! No more pointless death for you, Beth.


	7. Chapter 7

_“A wall, homes, twenty or so people. It’s a long trip, but if it works out, it’ll be the last long trip we have to make.”_

That’s what Rick had told them, sitting around the campfire after he returned from his talk with Noah. It was a proposal, an offer. Noah was leaving to try to find his family in Virginia regardless, but Rick wanted everyone else to go, too. To see if the community Noah had been taken from was still stable and standing. There hadn’t been much debate- Gabriel’s church had been overrun by the dead, and it wasn’t like they had any other leads on possible secure places. As Rosita explained, D.C. had been a bust. They'd gotten a handful of hours into their trip, and Eugene had confessed to making the whole damn thing up. So the decision to go to Virginia was made, and they spent the night mapping out a route to Richmond, planning to leave in the morning.

It sounded a little too damn good to be true to Negan. It wasn’t like there weren’t gated communities everywhere. If they were all safe havens, nobody would be out wandering the roads like a bunch of nomads. Just because there was a wall didn’t mean that the dead couldn’t get in.

Which is exactly what he said to Rick after they climbed into one of the cars together the next morning, Michonne, Carl, and Judith in tow. Michonne was driving, Rick in the backseat with his kids.

“I’m just saying. Noah said it’s been about a year since he was there. That’s a long fucking time for shit to happen.”

Rick nodded like he'd already thought of that. “Yeah, it is. It’s also a long time for people to fortify the place.” He looked up at Negan, their eyes meeting in the rearview mirror. “Look, I know it’s a long shot. I’m not saying I’m setting my hopes too high that this place is still intact. But we don’t have another lead, and we owe it to Noah to get him there, to see if any of his family is still alive. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have gotten Carol and Beth back.”

Negan settled back into his seat and grumbled, “Seems like an awful long drive for a long shot.”

“You got something better to do? I’d love to hear it.”

Negan huffed out an annoyed chuckle. “Fuck you, Rick. I’m just being realistic over here.”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s it,” Rick replied.

“Really? What is it then? En-fucking-lighten me.”

“I think you just like bein’ difficult.”

Negan turned in his seat, giving Rick a sly look. “Well, look at you. Got me all fucking figured out, don’t you, Rick?”

Rick held his gaze steadily, but Negan swore he saw the twitch of a smile he was trying to hold back, a glimmer of teasing in his blue eyes. “I’m workin’ on it. And watch your language.”

Negan’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Excuse the fuck out of me, Rick. Last I checked I was a goddamn motherfucking adult-”

Rick's eyes narrowed. “And you can swear all you want around adults. Not around my kids.”

Negan’s eyes darted back and forth between the two children in the car before settling back on Rick. “Rick, I really don’t think me dropping a couple f-bombs around the kiddos is even remotely their biggest concern.” He turned to Carl, who was watching their conversation with amused interest. “Kid, you mind if I swear in front of you?”

“No.”

Rick shot him an annoyed look. “ _Carl._ ” He glared at Negan. “I’m his father. It’s not up to him.”

“Rick, I’ve seen that kid hold a gun on a grown man without so much as blinking a goddamn eye. The little angel over there-” He indicated Judith, sleeping soundly in her carseat, “Doesn’t know what the fuck I’m saying right now. She’s too young to get out a 'dada' much less a 'fuck you'.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want them hearing it.”

Negan turned in his seat, addressing Michonne. “What’s your take on this? This shit is ridiculous, right?”

Michonne didn’t spare him a glance, keeping her eyes on the road. “They’re not my kids, Negan. If Rick doesn't want you wearing around them, that's his call.”

“Yeah, but if they were. If you had a couple of rugrats living in this mess, would you be sweating your ass off over them hearing a few choice words?”

A look flickered over Michonne’s face, brief but telling. Negan had struck a nerve. “I think, if my kid was still alive, I wouldn’t want his first word to be 'fuck'.”

_Shit. Still alive. Dammit, Negan, way to put your fucking foot in your mouth._

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning back to face the front. “Yeah, well. Fine. Still think it’s fu-" He cut himself off just in time, shaking his head. "Still think it's stupid, though.”

* * *

They drove in shifts, stopping only when they were in need of gas or supplies. They rotated cars a lot, too, so Negan found himself getting to know everyone in the group a little at a time. He and Abraham seemed to be on better terms after Negan shared the story about his old group, for which he was thankful- he didn't need any enemies, much less a brick wall of an ex-military man. Daryl still seemed to have a bit of wariness around him, an air of mistrust, but Negan got the sense that it was more because he was a new face than anything else. Daryl didn't strike him as the most easily trusting motherfucker.

Carol and Beth quickly became some of Negan's favorite people to be around. Carol was quick-witted, sharp as a fucking tack and took no shit. She was the the first woman since his late wife, Lucille, that was not only able to go toe-to-toe with him, but come out with the upper hand. She impressed the hell out of him, and Negan's camaraderie with her seemed to warm Daryl's cold shoulder a bit. 

Beth was unexpected. To look at her was to misjudge her immediately, and Negan learned that quickly. She was a tiny, wide-eyed thing that couldn't have been a day over eighteen, but there was a surprising strength to her that made Negan want to apologize for writing her off. She was a mix of softness and tenacity, innocence and wisdom. Sometimes she said things with such startling insight that Negan was taken aback, but he liked that. If he was honest, if he would let himself do things like reminisce or connect these people with his old life, Beth reminded him of his little sister, back when they were young. He rode with her, Glenn, Maggie, and Tara one day, and between the five of them, they made a pretty damn happy car. Tara was funny, full of jokes and games to pass the time, and Maggie and Beth bickered playfully like sisters do, Glenn looking on fondly, and there were moments when Negan could almost pretend that they were on a road trip as friends rather than a group of survivors seeking sanctuary. 

Rick always stuck with his kids, keen to never share the close quarters of a backseat with anyone but them. In spite of Rick’s no-swearing policy, Negan found that he liked the times he was around the three of them the best. Rick, almost despite himself, seemed to be warming up to Negan, occasionally deeming Negan's crude jokes as worthy of laughter and his biting remarks as worthy of some of his own dry banter. Negan liked teasing him more than just about anything, he discovered. Liked getting under his skin, seeing how far he could nudge before Rick would start pushing back. All in good, fun of course. Rick was a stoic guy, his laughter rare, and when Negan managed to drag a small smile or a quiet chuckle out of him, he felt a rather over-the top sense of satisfaction.

And then there were the nights they spent in the car. It went unspoken between them, but a pattern developed where, no matter what car they'd been in during the day, he and Rick always ended up in the same one at night, with Negan driving and Rick in the passenger seat. Rick's nightmares were still reoccurring- he woke up less violently now, and only once did Negan catch a glimpse of tears shining, unshed, in his eyes, but they still came. And when Rick woke up, Negan talked to him. At first, he tried to ask about the dreams, thinking that maybe Rick would want to just word-vomit it all out, but when those questions were dodged, they just talked. About the drive, about how Negan was settling into the group, about how Rick had met everyone. And when Rick had calmed down enough, he would drift back off while Negan drove.

Maybe it was coincidental, but Negan swore that the other man slept more peacefully the second time around. It was selfish, in part, that desire to think that his presence was helping in some way. And in another way, it was wholly unselfish. There was something inside of Negan- some fierce, righteously protective part of him that he hadn't even known existed- that burned a little when he saw Rick's chest heaving with the panicked breaths that followed the nightmares. And that part of Negan screamed, rabid and furious, _how dare anyone do that to another human being_.

Deeper down, there was something else. Something neither selfish or selfless, just bewilderingly specific, that growled, _how dare anyone do that to Rick. How dare anyone make him look so terrified, make him feel so small, make those tears well up in what should be clear eyes. How dare anyone touch him._

* * *

The days he spent with Rick and his kids were enjoyable, too. Carl was an interesting kid, all tough exterior against the world, but with a childish streak that was both surprising and unsurprising all at once. Back before the word fell apart, Negan had taught kids his age- he'd been high school gym teacher, and Rick had laughed louder than Negan had ever heard him upon hearing _that_ \- and he found Carl easy enough to talk to. Judith was a sweet baby, and Negan quickly built up a rapport with her that surprised both himself and Rick.

“You’re good with her.” Rick murmured, watching from the front seat as Negan made Judith giggle by pulling an array of silly faces.

“You sound surprised, Rick.”

“Can you blame me? When I think of people who I’d expect to be good with babies, I don’t immediately think ‘foul mouthed leather jacket wearing asshole’.”

Negan shot Rick a teasing look. “You broke your own no-swearing rule. Does that mean I get a free pass?”

“No. Two wrongs don’t make a right, and all that. What kind of father do you think I am?”

Negan _hmphed_ good-naturedly and turned back to Judith. He stuck his tongue out at her and crossed his eyes, and she giggled and grabbed at his face, her tiny fingers grasping little handfuls of his beard. He chuckled as she gave it a tug. “I’m gettin’ shaggy.” He said when she released him. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the long, wiry hairs there. He caught a glance at himself in the rearview mirror and _damn_. “I don’t think it’s ever been this long. Or this gray. I look like a damn mall Santa.”

Rick surprised him by emitting a small chuckle, and then surprised him even _more_ by reaching back and hesitantly tugging on the graying hair. “Makes you look wiser than you are. You should probably keep it.”

The touch was quick, and Rick’s hand had jerked right before he’d done it, like his mind and body were sending him mixed signals, but for a brief second, Rick’s hand had been on his face. It was enough to leave Negan blinking in confusion, and he was suddenly thankful for the beard, because he swore he could feel the faintest hint of heat creeping up his neck.

Rick looked a little awkward himself, and he quickly turned around and resumed talking to Daryl about the next time they’d need to stop for a supply run. Meanwhile, Negan returned to playing with Judith, his mind only half there.

It hadn’t been the first time Rick had initiated contact with him. In fact, each day since they’d escaped from the hospital, Rick had touched him in some way. They’d always been like this one- quick, jerky, hesitant, with a wall of discomfort from Rick and a flurry of confusion from Negan. He wanted to ask him about it, because the touches were so clearly deliberate. It was written all over Rick’s face when he did it that it was something he had to plan out and work himself up to- he always had this look on his face- one half discomfort, one half determination. He also noticed that Negan was the only one that he’d done it to so far, and that Rick was still flinching away from everyone else touching him. He had Carl help him change the gauze on his shoulder when he realized that he couldn’t wrap it properly himself, despite Negan’s offer to take care of it for him.

The brief points of contact between them never failed to leave Negan wondering if he was meant to reciprocate, or if this was just something Rick was trying out for himself. Either way, he wished that they had some time to themselves to talk about it. Rick never seemed to want to bring any of it up during their shared nights, his eyes always darting to the backseat, worried that Carl or whoever else was sleeping back there would wake up and hear them.

Negan's wish came true a week into the trip, when the group discovered that they were dangerously low on food. They veered off the planned course, winding down backroads until they managed to find an area with a few shops and warehouses scattered within a couple miles.

“We’ll split up,” Rick said, the rest of the group huddled around him, “Have a couple people go hit up each place. None of it looked to be too overrun when we drove by. Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours, tops. “Michonne, Daryl, and Beth can take the warehouse east of here. Sasha and Tyreese can take the one south, Abraham and Rosita can take the first few shops, Glenn, Maggie, and Noah will take the rest. Negan and I will take the shops a little farther north. The rest of you stay here, set up a perimeter, keep a watch. We’ll meet back here when we’re done. The area looks clear, but if anything happens, get in the cars and drive to the closest group.”

They all clambered into cars and sped off in opposite directions. Negan watched Rick as he drove them north, mentally tripping over himself wondering what to ask him first. He settled on the most recent development.

“Why you and me, Rick? Figured you’d wanna stick with your people.”

“Figured it’d give us some time to talk. Just us. There’s somethin’ I want to ask you.” There was a moment of pause, and then, “And you are one of my people now. You said you’re sticking with us, right?”

Negan tried to ignore the way he felt a little lighter at Rick referring to him as _one of my people_. “Right.” He answered. “So, what’d you want to ask me?”

“I, uh.” Rick took a breath, that air of uncomfortable tension settling around him again. “It’s about what we…what we talked about before. At the church.”

Negan wasn’t surprised. What else would it be about? “About Terminus.”

“Yeah. And…and what you noticed. About not liking people touching me. Being close to me.” He answered. “I want to change that.”

“Is that why you’ve been giving me hit-and-run shoulder touches and fingering my beard?”

Rick snorted out a surprised laugh. “I wouldn’t word it like that, but yeah. I’ve been…I was thinking, if maybe I had control over it…if I was the one to initiate it, I’d get used to it.”

Negan nodded. “Makes sense. So…what, are you asking me permission to keep stroking my beard?”

“No. I mean…if you want me to stop, I’ll stop. The beard thing…I didn’t think about it being…weird.”

“It wasn’t weird.” Rick shot him a look, and Negan laughed, throwing his hands up. “Okay, so maybe it was a little weird. Just…a little more friendly than I thought you’d be with me, Rick. Not saying I fucking minded, though. But I gotta point out that you still haven’t asked me a question. Unless the question was, ‘Negan, do you mind me lovingly caressing your fucking mall Santa beard?’”.

Rick shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “That wasn’t the question, no. The question was…would you maybe…just to help me get used to having other people touch me…”

Negan's face broke into a teasing grin. “Rick fucking Grimes. Are you asking me to touch you?”

“Please don’t make this worse than it has to be, Negan.” There was a warning undercurrent to his voice that made the teasing drain right out of Negan.

_No flirting, asshole. That’s the exact opposite of what he wants from you._

“Shit. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m…not the best with serious shit like this. I’m more of a ‘make light of the serious shit by cracking dirty jokes’ kind of guy. I’ll stop, though. I get that that’s…not appropriate right now. I can behave myself.”

Rick cast him a wary glance. “Can you? Honestly, Negan, I need to know. Because this- whatever this is, with me, I don’t know how to deal with it. I hate it, but I don’t know how to make it stop. I thought, since you’re the one who knows- that you’d…you’d know when to hold back. You’d know what’s going to make me uncomfortable. But if you don’t think you’re going to be able to draw the line-”

“No. Rick, listen to me. I promise you, I fucking _swear_ to you, Rick, I will draw the fucking line. I’ll dig a fucking ditch in the ground that my sorry ass will fall face-first into before I make you feel uncomfortable like that. I know I’m an asshole, Rick, but I swear that I know how to control myself. I’ll be a goddamned gentleman, and if you so much as give me the stink eye, I will back right the fuck off.”

Rick seemed to take in his words, considering them. “You mean that? I’m not asking for- for anything big over here. Little things. A touch on the arm, sit next to me in the car, maybe. Casual stuff, so I can get used to doing it again.”

“Of course. Yeah, fucking of course I mean it. Whatever you need, Rick.”

That seemed to satisfy Rick. “And just…at least at first, give me a little warning? Make sure I see…that I know it’s you. That I know what you’re doing.”

Negan nodded vigorously, relieved that Rick believed him. That he trusted him. “Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that.”

* * *

They drove the rest of the way in relative silence, Negan sensing that Rick had exhausted his capacity for conversation for the time being. He wasn’t a big talk-out-your-feelings guy, and Negan got that. He’d give him a little space, give him some time to shake off the awkwardness of asking Negan for a favor like that.

They pulled up to the front of a row of stores, and the car rumbled to a stop. It wasn’t much, just a small strip of run-down buildings- a gas station connected to a chain fast food restaurant and a drugstore. The front windows of the drugstore were shattered from the outside, but other than that, the places looked somewhat intact. They approached cautiously, Rick with his gun raised, Negan with Lucille poised threateningly over his shoulder, ready to swing if necessary. They made their way into the drugstore first, stepping around the shards of broken glass and surveying the picked-over remains of the store.

Rick turned to him. “You take the right, I’ll take the left. We meet in the middle. Don’t go through any doors until we’re done with the front.” Negan nodded, and ducked to the right, sweeping up and down the aisles and grabbing anything left that could be remotely useful. There wasn’t a lot left, unfortunately, but a lot of times people only took what they needed, so not everything had been stripped from the shelves. He found three bottles of peroxide, to which he breathed a silent thank you, because they had run out of that days ago, and keeping Rick’s shoulder clean while it healed was going to be a real bitch and a half without it. He threw just about every kind of bandage he could find into his pack- regardless of the fact that some were too small to be of any real help. Better safe than sorry, right?

By the time he and Rick met up again, he’d gotten a decent haul. “Anything good?” He asked, eyeing the bottles in Rick’s hands.

“Yeah. Most of the meds are gone, but there were a few things left. Vitamins, some painkillers. Better than nothing.”

“Vitamins? What, you’re still worried about that shit now? Worried the kiddos aren’t gonna get enough fucking calcium?” Negan smirked.

Rick shot him an exasperated look and tucked the bottles into his bag. “They’re probably not. I figure, worst comes to worst, it’s better than nothing. Not like two-year-old cans of creamed corn are the best things to be living off of.”

Negan smiled and shrugged. “Got me there, sheriff. You’re a good dad. Your kids are gonna take on the damn world with the help of your fucking vitamins.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Just help me with the back room. And I was a sheriff's _deputy_."

“Still can’t believe you were a fucking cop. Explains a lot, though.” Negan muttered as Rick banged on the door to the back room before pushing it open.

“What does me being a cop explain?” Rick asked, scanning the room. The shelves there were completely stripped.

“Explains that nice little air of authority you got going on," Negan replied. "And you’re a man of strategy. We do shit like this, and I can see you mapping out scenario after scenario in your head. I’m not much of a follow-the-leader kind of guy, but I can see why people would want to follow you.”

Rick blinked up at him, seeming surprised at the compliment. “Uh. Thanks.”

Negan nodded in his direction. “Yeah. Well. Anyway. Looks like this place is a bust. Ready to move on?”

* * *

Rick watched as Negan led the way into the next building. As they searched through empty boxes and shelves and in the kitchen of the fast food joint, Rick mulled over what the other man had said.

_I see why people would want to follow you._

The words made relief wash over him, his nagging doubts about whether or not Negan respected him temporarily vanishing. _He could be lying, of course_ , Rick thought. But why would he? Nothing Rick had said prompted the statement. It wasn’t like he’d been prodding- Negan had offered it up of his own accord. And besides that…Rick didn’t see Negan as a person who relied on lies to get him through. He was an asshole, sometimes, certainly. A pain in the ass who couldn’t shut up with a penchant for vulgarity, but from what Rick had seen of him, Negan’s problem was that he often said things that were a little _too_ honest, rather than not enough. So, yeah. Maybe it was a bit too soon to say, but Rick had a feeling he could trust him, or at least trust his word. God knows he wouldn’t have asked Negan for what he had if he felt otherwise.

Rick sidled up next to Negan, forcing himself to stand a little closer than he was entirely comfortable with.

“Place has been picked clean as a turkey leg on Thanksgiving. Can’t imagine there was a lot to begin with, though.” Negan shrugged, rifling through the last of the metal cabinets. He cocked his head up at Rick. “Gas station? We’ll probably have better luck there. It’ll probably be a lot of candy bars and stale Cracker Jack, but hey, at least you grabbed those vitamins to make up for it, right?”

Rick cracked a small smile as Negan straightened up. “Right.”

Negan was right on both counts: the gas station was sparsely stocked with candy and snack food that Rick was sure would make Carl happy. They loaded up their bags with everything they could grab, from beef jerky to bags of Skittles. Rick was stuffing a couple of water bottles into his bag when Negan came up beside him, a half-eaten chocolate bar hanging out of his mouth.

“Hungry?” Rick asked, amused.

“Fucking starving, Rick. And on top of that, you know when the last time I had chocolate was? A long fucking time ago. Here-” He took a bite and offered the bar to Rick. When Rick just stared blankly at him, he laughed. “What, you one of those guys who’s still scared of swapping a little spit? I don't have fucking cooties, Rick. You look like you could use something sweet.”

The double meaning, however unintentional it may have been on Negan’s part, hung heavy in the air between them as Rick’s eyes shifted from Negan’s face to the candy. After a long moment, he caved, leaning forward to take a bite and relishing the way the chocolate melted on his tongue. He licked his lips as Negan finished off the rest.

“There a back room to this place?” Negan asked, glancing around.

Rick jerked his head to a door behind the front counter. “Yeah. It’s probably nothin', but may as well check, right?”

They approached the door, Rick banging on it like before to draw out any walkers inside. He wasn’t expecting anything, but from behind the door, he heard the faint groaning snarl of a walker. He turned back to Negan, who nodded and pulled out his gun, training it squarely on the door. Rick took a breath, aimed his gun, and shoved the door open, firing as soon as he saw the walker lunge for him.

He took it out on the first shot, but unfortunately he hadn’t been prepared from the possibility of there being more than one locked in the tiny gas station storage room. As soon as the first one went down, Rick lowered his gun, thinking they were in the clear, and that’s when two more came clawing out at him, fingers snatching at the air. He stumbled back instinctively, firing off another round while Negan took a few shots from over his head. The one in back went down first, knocking the other forward and into Rick, who went down hard on his shoulder.

“Shit!” Negan yelled as Rick shot down the second walker from the floor. He dropped down to his knees as Rick struggled to sit up, one hand clutching his injured shoulder. “You alright? Does it feel like any of the stitches ripped out? Shit. Wasn’t fucking expecting a three-way of those fuckers. That room is tiny.” Rick shrugged off his jacket, his fingers wandering up to the wound. “Shit,” Negan hissed again, and Rick realized why when his fingers came back stained red.

“Fuck.” He pushed himself up to his feet, jacket in hand, and glanced into the back room. It was empty save for a few well-worn sleeping bags spread out on the floor. “Good place to stay, I guess. Access to food, meds. No need to run around and find them for a bit. They were smart.”

“Not smart enough to stay alive, apparently,” Negan retorted. “Rick, we need to patch up your shoulder. I’m not gonna be able to stitch it again, but we have enough shit from the drugstore to clean it and wrap it. Hopefully that’ll be enough.” Rick nodded, watching as Negan stepped back out from behind the counter and back toward the restaurant half of the building. “C’mon. It’ll be easier if you’re sitting down.”

Rick followed him, settling into a booth and stripping off his shirt while Negan rummaged through their bags in search of the gauze and antiseptic. He pulled a wad of napkins out of one of the dispensers on the table, soaking them with the peroxide and then looking up at Rick for permission. When he nodded, Negan pressed them to his shoulder. Rick winced, looking down when Negan pulled the napkins away to try to assess the damage.

“It’s not too bad. Looks like you only popped one. It’s been healing pretty well so far, so there’s really nothing to worry about.” He began unwinding some of the gauze, once again glancing up at Rick before he began to rewrap the wound.

Rick breathed out slowly, trying to focus on the sensation, trying to separate out the sting of the pulled stitch and the initial revulsion to having someone’s hands on him from the actual feeling of Negan touching him. He watched Negan has he worked, paying close attention to the gentle way Negan’s fingers brushed his skin, at the way he did everything so slowly and carefully, as if trying to reassure Rick through the touch. Negan’s face was intent and focused, brows knitted with the same concentration that he’d had when he’d been stitching Rick up.

It wasn’t terrible, he realized. The warm brushes of fingertips against him arm seemed almost caring, and by the time Negan pulled away, he was no longer tense. Hesitantly, he lifted a hand and let it rest against Negan’s arm, his eyes meeting the other man’s. “Thank you.”

Negan’s gaze flicked down to Rick’s hand on his arm and then back up to Rick’s eyes, something soft glowing there. “No problem, Rick.”

* * *

After Negan patched Rick up, they tackled the gas pumps outside, siphoning out as much as they could and loading the cans up in the back of the car. Negan offered to drive back, a pensive look on his face as he watched the road.

“So, what happened to your old lady?”

Rick cast Negan a confused look, and the other man nodded to the ring on his left hand. “You used to be married. I say 'used to', because I don’t see anybody in this group acting like your wife. What happened to her?”

“She died.”

Rick didn’t have to look over at Negan to know he was rolling his eyes. “No shit, Rick. I was asking about the how of it.” He paused, seeming to reel himself back in. “Unless you don’t wanna talk about it.”

“No. It’s alright," Rick said. "She, uh. She was pregnant with Judith, last place we were stayin' at. It was a prison, pretty secure, but there was a guy- he led some walkers in, and everything fell apart real fast. We got separated, she was inside, with Maggie and- and Carl.” Rick swallowed hard. “I guess the stress triggered it- she went into labor, and somethin' went wrong. Maggie had to…had to get the baby out of her, but she was already…already bleeding out before that.”

Negan breathed out. “ _Fuck_. Shit, Rick.” He shook his head as he drove. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” He bit his lip, wondering. “What about you? Were you married?”

He saw Negan’s face change, his jaw clench tight. “Yeah. Yeah, I was. To the most amazing motherfucking woman I’ve ever met. Dunno why she stayed with my sorry ass. God knows I didn’t deserve her.”

There was a rawness in Negan’s voice that made Rick ache a little bit. “What happened to her?”

“Cancer. Right before it all happened, too. I was in the hospital with her when everything went down, could hear people starting to lose their shit in the streets while she was dying. It’s a hell of a fucked up way to find out about all of it, you know? I was sitting there with her, barricaded myself in the room because doctors were yelling at everyone to evacuate. They wanted me to leave her the fuck behind.” Tight anger colored Negan’s voice as he spoke. “I waited it out, stayed with her till she died. Saw the life go out of her. And then…then she _changed_. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Scared the living shit out of me, and I _ran_.”

Rick could hear the self-loathing seeping into Negan’s speech. “What were you supposed to do? You knew she died.”

Negan glared out at the road. “Yeah, I did. I knew she did. But…she came back. She was the first one I saw change. First one I saw, ever. There was no way I could’ve known…what she was. I ran out into the lobby and found this kid getting attacked by a couple more dead ones. He was yelling for help, and I bashed their skulls in, no questions asked. What kind of fucking monster does that make me?” He asked. “I didn’t know what they were. I freaked out after, thinking I’d killed two people, and the kid told me what they were, that they were already dead. But I still killed them without knowing that. And then…” He chewed on his lower lip, voice guilt-ridden. “And then, I had to ask that poor fucking kid to go take care of Lucille for me. I couldn’t grow enough of a sack to do the last thing I’d ever be able to do for my wife.” Negan swiped at his face angrily, the sleeve of his jacket coming back damp. “Fuck.”

Instinctively, Rick reached out and placed a hand on Negan’s shoulder, his chest tight. “It’s alright. That you didn’t. That you had to ask for help. You’d just lost her, you shouldn’t have had to…to do that.”

“I didn’t deserve her,” Negan whispered, sounding lost. Rick squeezed his shoulder.

“Yeah, well. What man thinks that _anyone_ deserves the woman he loves. Right?”

Negan cracked a small smile. “Yeah. Right.”

* * *

When they got back to where the others were camped out, everyone else had already returned. The other scavenging teams had come back with small but worthwhile hauls similar to their own, enough so that they’d be set for a little while.

“You guys run into any trouble?” Glenn asked as he helped Rick and Michonne fill up the gas tanks. “You were gone a while. We were starting to worry.”

Rick shook his head as he tipped one of the half-full cans into the tank of the car he and Negan had been driving. “Nothing much. Couple walkers caught us by surprise. Thought it was just the one. I pulled one of my stitches.”

Michonne cast him a concerned glance. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, “Nothing to worry about. Negan patched me up.”

“He’s coming in handy.” Michonne noted.

Rick turned his head to look over at Negan. Right now, he was leaning against the van next to Beth, chatting with her while letting Judith wrap her tiny fingers around one of his own. “Yeah,” He agreed, smiling to himself. “He is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wait for these is always a bit long, but I promise I'll keep going until it's done! Thanks for sticking with it, this fic is just kicking my ass every time I try to write it for some reason.


	8. Chapter 8

By Negan’s count, seventeen days went by before they were finally within range of Noah’s old neighborhood.

It wasn’t even that the drive between Atlanta and Richmond was that far, it was just that they had to keep stopping: for gas, for supplies, to make sure they were on the right route, to backtrack when a road was blocked by cars or fallen trees or the dead.

By the time Noah started recognizing things and telling them they were getting close, people were tired, cranky, smelled like sweat and dirt and god knows what else. Negan, for one, was ready to be out of the damn car for a while. As used as he was to being on the road, and as much as he really was coming around to the people he was riding with, he needed some space to breathe. Everything right now felt suffocating. 

He was in one of the vans, Tyreese and Noah in the front, Glenn way in the back, Michonne and Rick on either side of him as he sat in the middle, playing buffer between Rick and other people. His arm pressed casually against Rick’s, like it wasn’t a big deal, like it was a completely normal thing that happened. And, shit, he thought, maybe that’s where it was heading. Over the past two weeks they’d spent in the cars together, Rick had visibly relaxed around him, and, to a lesser degree, other people. There was still that initial tension when they first touched, and occasionally Rick would still flinch away, but it was progress. The more time they spent together, whether it be their talks at night or their banter during the day, Negan began to feel like Rick was warming up to him.

And sometimes…sometimes, when he let his mind wander into dangerous places, he thought that Rick was warming up to him in more ways than one. Which was insane, he knew. Wishful thinking at best, completely inappropriate at the worst. But sometimes he caught Rick looking at him in a way that, if they didn’t already know each other, he would think Rick was sizing him up.

But he knew he wasn’t. So what was that? That lingering gaze, the way that sometimes, when they talked, it seemed almost flirtatious.

Negan shook it off best he could, burying it. It was _in his head_ , is what it was. It was fucking terrible for him to even consider. He, against all odds and perhaps completely by accident, had Rick’s trust, and if Rick knew that Negan was thinking about him like that…well, Negan suspected that all of the progress they’d made would come to a grinding halt.

So he shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing on the situation at hand.

“How far out are we?” Rick asked Noah.

“About five miles.”

Rick nodded and radioed Carol, who was heading the group of cars behind them. “Carol?”

A staticy “Yes?” came over the line.

“We’re about five miles out. Just wanted to give you a heads up. We’ll go in, see if it’s clear. We’ll radio you and let you know what’s going on."

Once Noah let them know they were only a few minutes’ walk to the neighborhood, the parked, pulling off to the side of the road near the woods and parking amidst a few other abandoned cars so that they could remain undetected. The six of them approached on foot, coming to a stop when they reached a large metal gate blocking off the front of the neighborhood. There was no seeing through it, as the community was completely walled off, and for just a second, Negan let himself feel hopeful. The walls looked solid, sturdy, intact. The gate was sealed shut when Noah moved to open it. Maybe-

And then they heard it. From behind the wall, the faint but unmistakable snarling. They stopped short, exchanging grim looks, and when Negan glanced over at Noah, he looked petrified. Glenn was the first to act, climbing the wall and looking over the fence to assess the situation.

When he looked back at them, his face was bleak. He shook his head, and then Noah was throwing himself at the wall, scrambling over with surprising speed, and everyone else rushed to follow suit, dropping over one by one.

Whatever Negan expected to find inside, it wasn't this. The place had been devastated. And not just by the dead, Negan noticed immediately. Houses were burnt, reduced to blackened rubble and unstable charcoal skeletons. Furniture had dragged out into the streets, and there were bodies on the ground with limbs missing. Not got-gnawed-off-by-dead-fucks missing, either. Cut-off-by-the-living missing. Whoever had ransacked the place seemed to be long gone, but the dead still roamed the streets, stumbling idly around. Not too many, not enough to turn tail and run, but enough that they needed to be taken care of.

Noah dropped to his knees in the middle of the street, curling in on himself. Tyreese went to him immediately, hand on his shoulder, trying in vain to console him.

_Poor fucking kid. His whole family gone, just like that. He spent so long hoping, just to come back to this..._

Negan looked around at the faces of the people with him, reading the emotional damage there: anger, frustration, disappointment. In Noah’s case, devastation. Rick looked disappointed but resigned, like he hadn’t dared to get his hopes up too much. Which made sense, Negan thought. The last place he’d gone to in search of sanctuary had been Terminus, and god knows that encounter had left him more scars than he knew what to do with.

Michonne, though…she looked more upset by the loss than anyone other than Noah. Negan watches as her expression wavered between shock and sorrow before becoming a blank mask, shut off from whatever she had been feeling moments before. Her head turned toward a small group of walkers roaming a hundred or so yards away, and she muttered, “I’ll get them,” unsheathing her katana.

Negan, on impulse, followed her, Lucille at the ready. Together, they began clearing the street, and Negan could sense the tension rolling off of Michonne in waves, making him wonder if he was doing more harm than good by trying to help her out. Maybe she wanted to take out her anger on the dead ones? Work off the frustration with a little head-slicing?

She stopped, breathing heavy with exertion, when Rick and Glenn came over to tell them that they were going to give the place a quick once-over, see if there was anything there they could use before they moved on. Tyreese was still crouched with Noah.

Michonne looked downcast as Rick walked away, and Negan couldn't hold back anymore.

“You, uh. You seem really fucking pissed about this falling through.”

She cut through him with a look. “You’re not?” Her tone was borderline accusatory, and it made Negan want to rear back a bit, show some teeth.

“Not fucking really. The kid said it had been a year. It was a long shot since the beginning, no point in getting my hopes up.”

“Maybe I’m not as jaded as you. Maybe I don’t like being out there.”

“You think I do?” Negan snapped back.

Michonne's face was steely. “I think you’ve been out there a long time. On your own. And I know what that does to a person. Know how living like that starts wearing on you, makes you into something less than what you were before. I’ve been there. I’m damn lucky I found Rick and his group at the prison, or else I’d probably still be there. I don’t want to go back to that.”

He knew what she meant. But the implication- that he was somehow further gone than the rest of them- pissed him right the fuck off anyway. “I am perfectly fucking fine, but thanks for your concern,” he growled. “Just because I don’t cross my fingers and wish real hard that Santa will bring me a new happy super safe place for me to rest my pretty little head doesn’t mean that I don’t want it. Fuck, you think I like being out there? Wondering when I’m gonna eat again, if it’s safe to sleep or talk or take a piss?”

“A stable place isn’t some fairy tale. We had it before. We did. We can have it again. Better this time, because we’ll be prepared.”

“Sounds like fairy tale shit to me.”

“Just because you’ve never had it doesn’t mean it’s not real.” She replied, her voice cold. Her words cut through him as cleanly as if she’d taken a stab at him with her katana, because she was  _right_. In all his time since the world went to shit, he’d never found a sanctuary that lasted more than a week or so. In all honesty, he was never looking for one. He’d kept to himself after the first couple groups he’d joined turned on each other or died because they were scared or weak and made stupid mistakes. It was hard to build a stable place to live when you were always looking over your shoulder. Without anyone to watch your back, staying in one place for too long was dangerous.

They lapsed into silence after that, following Rick and Glenn through a few of the houses, pawing through the scattered remains of garages and living rooms, careful to inspect the area for walkers before heading into the houses. Once they got a little further into the neighborhood, they caught sight of the break in the back wall that must have let the walkers in. Michonne paused for a moment, gazing at it thoughtfully, before moving on.

They managed to scrape together a handful of garbage bags full of useful items, and when they regrouped, Michonne seemed in better spirits. “We could put some of the garage doors together against the break in the fence,” She said, voice hopeful. “Park a few cars against them until we can brick it back up.” Negan and Glenn shared a doubtful look with Rick, and she frowned. “It can work.” She insisted. Negan was temped to speak, to shut her down, but Rick did it for him.

“This place is surrounded by a forest,” Rick pointed out. “There’s no sight lines. Someone or something could attack and they'd be at the walls before we could notice it. That’s probably what happened to the people here.”

“It’s what happened to us, back at the prison,” Glenn added.

Michonne looked desperate. “We could start taking down the trees. Use them to build the walls up.” Another weary shared glance, and she looked annoyed this time. “Look,” She insisted, leading them over to the break in the wall. The three of them followed, but whatever Michonne was about to propose next died on her lips at the sight outside the fence.

There was a thick stretch of trees, dense and green, and where they let out, there were bodies scattered in the grass. _Well, parts of bodies_ , Negan corrected himself. Whoever they had been, they’d all been sliced in half at the waist and dismembered, the lower halves and arms of at least twenty people laying among the grass, rotting into the earth.

"Jesus fuck." Negan muttered under his breath.

“Washington,” Michonne spoke after a long minute. “Eugene lied about a cure, but he wanted to go to Washington for a reason. He did the math and realized that it was the place where there would be a chance. We’re close,” She turned to Rick, whom Negan was surprised to see looking like he was thinking it over. “What if there are people there? Some place where we can be _safe?_  We’re a hundred miles away. There’s a possibility. There’s a _chance_. Instead of just being out here.” Her eyes slid over to Negan, not angry this time, just…imploring him to see. "We've been out there a long time. Too long." She looked back to Rick. “Don’t you want one more day with a chance?”

* * *

Rick heard Michonne. He did. And it sounded promising, _one more day with a chance_. And he knew they didn’t have a lot of choices right now. No direction, no plan, no place to go. So he nodded.

“Let’s go. It’s a hundred miles.” He met her eyes. “We should go to Washington.”

He could swear that she very nearly smiled at that.

That almost-smile was gone in an instant, though, because Noah’s voice was suddenly ringing out in the distance, screaming for help. Rick's heart stopped for a moment and then they were running, Glenn in the lead. They found Noah on the front porch of a house, surrounded by a few walkers, using a piece of scaffolding to hold them at bay. Glenn was the fastest to move, taking the two on the porch out while Rick, Negan, and Michonne dispatched the ones in the yard.

Michonne went in to slice through the neck of one walker, only to for her katana to rebound off its shoulder, a piece of rebar struck though it. It lunged for her and Rick moved, pulling it back and bringing his machete down on its head in a bloody swing.

Noah scrambled up, panting, “Tyreese!”

Rick’s head whipped around, strands of sweat-soaked hair in his face. “Where?”

“My house. He’s been bitten.” Noah’s panicked words sent a rush of terror through Rick, and he sprinted behind Noah, up the steps into a house further down the road.

Tyreese was in a back room, slumped half-underneath a table, clutching his arm and sweating profusely. He didn’t seem to register that they had entered the room, his eyes unfocused and distant, as if seeing something they couldn’t.

“Cut it off, we have to cut it off,” Rick barked, and the other three sprang into action, Glenn and Negan holding Tyreese still against the wall while Michonne raised her katana. Rick, without giving it a second thought, grabbed Tyreese’s arm, pulling it out in front of him. He felt a sudden rush of gratitude for Negan as he did it, realizing that the small points of contact with the other man really were making a difference. He looked at the limb in front of him, and his stomach twisted unpleasantly. 

_Two bites. Shit._

“I need a belt!” He shouted, and Negan was pressing one into Rick’s hands almost instantly, all but yanking it out of the loops of his jeans. Rick pulled it tight as he could around Tyreese’s bicep.

“One hit, clean, go!” Rick shouted, and Michonne brought the sword down, severing the arm in one swing. Rick pulled back, dropping the bloodied limb to the floor. Michonne grabbed a sheet off the bed and wrapped the wound, the white of the thin fabric immediately soaking through with crimson.

 _Shit, shit, shit._ Rick’s heart pounded as Glenn and Negan hauled Tyreese up, dragging him out of the house as fast as they could. He was still conscious, but barely so, shock and blood loss and pain making him little more than dead weight. Rick’s mind raced, desperately trying to grasp onto the memory of what they did for Hershel back at the prison after they had to amputate his leg.

 _We had clean, running water at the prison_ , Rick thought with a swell of panic. _It was safe there. Room to recover. We had more medical supplies than some antiseptic and gauze. Even if we’re able to cauterize it and keep him from losing too much blood, even if we managed to cut the arm off before the infection from the bites spread…there’s no way we have the resources or the knowledge to keep the arm from getting infected…_

He pushed the thought back. _Deal with it later. Just get out._ The front gate was still sealed with a lock and chain since they’d climbed over the wall to get inside. Unfortunately, the road outside the neighborhood was no longer clear. Dead hands clawed at the gap between the gates.

“We need to break the chain!” Rick barked, and Negan was there in an instant, Lucille in hand, swinging at the metal until it gave while Noah and Michonne held Tyreese. “Get ready!” Rick yelled, pulling his machete out of his belt.

The gates opened and the dead poured inside, lunging for them. Michonne left Tyreese with Noah to join in, slicing away at walkers while Rick alternated between his gun and the machete and Negan took them out with Lucille, Glenn stabbing them in the temple with a long knife. Once the path was clear, Negan and Glenn were back to carrying Tyreese. They hit the woods, and Rick and Michonne grabbed his legs, seeing the way Tyreese’s slumped form threatened to slide from the men’s grasp.

“You’ve gotta hold on man, _hold on_ ,” Rick growled, desperate, as they got him to the van. It was a group effort to get him inside, and Glenn stayed in the seat with him, Michonne and Noah jumping in the far back while Negan slid into the passenger seat.

Rick got in the driver’s seat, radioing Carol as he went.

“Tyreese is bit. We cut off the arm but we have to cauterize it. Keep Sasha and Carl _away_. They don’t need to see this.”

He started the car, only to have the wheels spin uselessly. He swore under his breath, pressing the gas down.

_C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, goddammit._

The wheels caught suddenly and the car shot forward, into one of the abandoned vehicles they’d parked by. The back of it swung open and the contents spilled out onto the front of their van.

The car had been filled with the torsos of the bodies they’d found earlier. They were still moving, snarling and snapping uselessly against the windshield, and Rick shot a horrified look at Negan for a moment before he backed up and sped away.

Rick was flying down the road, the gas pedal nearly at the floor. He heard Glenn’s voice in the row of seats behind him.

“Rick.”

There was something about his voice- the way it was softer now, the panic replaced by something resigned and subtle- that made it far more terrifying. Rick didn't slow down.

_He’s going to be fine. Nobody has to die._

Glenn’s voice told him otherwise. “Rick,” he said.

“He’s gone,” He said.

Rick stopped the car then.

* * *

Gabriel’s skills as a pastor were finally put to some kind of use. Rick wouldn't call it _good_ use, as the situation was far from it. Sasha’s initial furious devastation upon learning what happened rapidly faded into a quiet, painful grief, so palpable and broken that it seemed to radiate from her. Michonne had gone to her side immediately, pulling her close, offering the comfort of a friend. After Sasha’s tears had subsided, she still held on, her fingers gnarled in the side of Michonne's shirt. Rick ached for her. First Bob, then Tyreese...and so close together. How was one person meant to compartmentalize that much pain at one time?

They found a spot off the beaten path, a grassy field lined with willow trees. It was there that they buried him, beneath low-hanging leaves, Michonne and Sasha working to knot together some branches to cobble together a cross that they struck into the ground at the head of the grave. Tyreese’s well-worn beanie hung atop it, Sasha having taken it off of him before they lowered him into the ground. They gathered close, heads bowed, listening to Gabriel’s soft-spoken words:

_We look not at what can be seen, but we look at what cannot be seen. For what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal._

They shoveled earth over the body, one at a time. Sasha went last, her face gray, and the spade fell from her trembling hand after the first toss of dirt. She backed away, face unreadable, and Gabriel and Michonne followed after her. Rick moved to take her place, taking the shovel up and finishing the job. Guilt gnawed at his insides, the ever-present voice in the back of his head saying _you should have stopped this from happening, you shouldn’t have left him and Noah alone._

He could hear Noah now, near the cars, crying softly while Beth spoke gentle words to him, a low murmur that Rick couldn't make out over the sobs.

_He’s lost so much today._

Rick closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and swallowing down the lump in his throat. When he opened them again, Negan was beside him, one hand held out, eyes on the spade in his hand, offering. Rick gripped the shovel tighter.

“I need to. For him. He...” Rick shook his head, looking down at the sheet-covered body, sparsely sprinkled with dirt. “He was my friend. He…back at the prison, back when we _lost_ the prison…I got separated from Judith. And when I found her carseat, it was empty, surrounded by the dead. I thought…” His voice shook. He could still recall the overwhelming sense of loss that he'd felt in that moment, like his chest had been carved open. “He saved her. I didn’t know it until after Terminus, when we found him and Carol again, but he saved her. Got her out of there. He kept her safe, all that time. I owe him more than I can say, and I can never repay him for that. But I can do this. One last thing. For him.”

Negan nodded, rocking back and sitting on his knees beside Rick, watching as he filled in the grave. When he was done, he was sweating, his hands rubbed raw and caked with dirt. It didn’t feel like enough, but it would have to do. He fell back, sitting in the grass beside Negan, staring at the makeshift cross. Negan’s hand was on the ground between them, pulling up grass, and Rick reached out, covering it with his own.

Negan didn’t say anything, even though Rick could tell he was surprised. He could see the wide-eyed look on the other man’s face even out of the corner of his eye, but Negan simply sat with him, their hands an anchor between them. He seemed to know that now was a good moment to be silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I really can't say enough how much all the feedback I've gotten means to me. Cheesy as fuck, but I really do love every comment, short or long. I know the development of their relationship has been a bit slow, but within the next couple chapters I'm hoping for it to pick up a bit. I only had snippets from the beginning and a couple of the upcoming chapters in mind when I started writing this, which may account for my frustration with this middle part, haha. Thanks for sticking with it anyway!


	9. Chapter 9

Four days after Tyreese’s death, they ran out of gas.

They’d worried about the possibility of that happening, but they’d planned to be closer to a town when it happened, so they could get their bearings, find some cars to siphon gas from or hotwire. What they hadn’t accounted for was the detour they had to take after a long stretch of wooded backroad turned out to be a dead end. They’d had to double back on two hours’ worth of driving, and that was when they had to ditch the first car. Cramped and uncomfortable, they’d siphoned the gas out of the smallest vehicle and split it between the remaining two vans, everyone shoved into close quarters, sitting in laps and on the floor and in trunks between backpacks. Rick was driving, Michonne and Sasha wedged into the passenger seat together, Negan cradling Judith’s carseat in his lap in the seat behind them. Poor Beth was wedged in between him and Glenn, still more people cramped around them.

They detoured down a second backroad that was supposed to lead into a small town with the intention of scouring for supplies there. They were running dangerously low on everything- food, water, gas, medical supplies. Negan and Beth worked together to keep Judith entertained, making silly faces and singing along together. Negan could tell, after a while, that the constant chatter was starting to grate on everyone else’s nerves, but he elected to ignore it and carry on. If Judith got bored and decided to start crying, they would be a hell of a lot more irritated. And beside that, Negan was enjoying himself. If anyone had a problem with him and Beth harmonizing on _Stairway to Heaven_ , they could stuff it.

Everything went smoothly enough until they reached the town that had been marked on the map- and it was stripped clean. It had never been a big town, certainly, barely a pit stop, but it had been a pit stop that they desperately needed. And there was nothing- a single gas station, stripped clean, the pumps long since dry, and the gas tanks of the few shambling cars left in lots and roads were empty. The scant houses and shops yielded nothing of significance, and forty miles after they’d left the town behind them, their gas tanks ran dry.

“Shit.” Rick hissed as the car rumbled to a shaky stop, sputtering out in the middle of the road. The other van- driven by Rosita- came to a halt beside them, and Abraham leaned out the passenger side window.

“You out of juice?”

Rick sighed and scrubbed a hand through his long hair. “Yeah.”

Abraham nodded, looking resigned. “Gas light’s been on in ours for some time now. Can’t have more than a mile or two in it, and there’s no way we can all fit in here. I can’t move to itch my ass as it is.”

Everyone sat in the cars for a moment, knowing what they had to do but not wanting to accept it quite yet. Rick was the first to move, grabbing the roadmap wedged in between his seat and the center console and hopping out of the car. Everyone else followed suit, and Negan passed Judith off to Carl so he could join Rick in scanning the map he’d spread out on the ground.

Rick glanced up at him, and he cautiously placed one hand on the smaller man’s shoulder as he crouched beside him, a sense of satisfaction coming over him when Rick didn’t tense under the touch.

“How much further to Washington?” He asked, part of him dreading the answer.

Rick sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “About sixty miles.”

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

“Rick, we don’t have it in us to go another sixty miles. Not if we had the cars, and most certainly motherfucking not on foot.”

Rick folded the map back up, shoving it in the back pocket of his worn jeans. “I know.” He said. “But we don’t really have another option here.”

“Fuck.” Negan repeated, squeezing Rick’s shoulder.

Rick’s eyes were weary, but he managed to grace Negan with a tired smile. “ _Fuck_ is right.”

* * *

Food and water were tightly rationed, used sparingly as they trudged along the seemingly endless stretch of wooded road. Negan saw how people were reluctant to take sips of water, to accept an offered cracker or bit of granola bar. He’d been confused by it at first, but he got it now: they were looking out for each other, the big fucking bunch of self-sacrificing jackasses. And while Negan got it, he really did- this was how they operated, putting the needs of others before themselves- he also saw that this insistence that “no, really, I’m fine”, was driving them to exhaustion.

It was only when they came across a pack of stray dogs that they all ate, nobody thinking twice about the fact that the mangy mutts could have once been someone’s pets. He was relieved about that, he thought, digging into a chunk of meat with his teeth. Softhearted as so many of them were, he was sure at least one person would have some kind of objection, but they surprised him, killing the dogs swiftly and cooking them up over a fire as easily as if they’d been squirrels.

Past that incident, food was scarce, the woods not yielding much in the way of hunting game, and in the dry heat of midsummer, the combination of hunger, dehydration, and full-body exhaustion added up to a lot of weary, bone-tired people who were barely capable of fending for themselves. This far off the beaten path, it was hard to count the miles, and Negan began to worry that people were going to start dropping from heat exhaustion before they could get anywhere near Washington.

When they stopped for the night, Rick was the first to volunteer to keep watch. He was seated beside the small fire they’d kindled for the sake of keeping some semblance of visibility, and Negan decided to stay up with him. He sat close and placed a hand over Rick’s were it lay on his knee, and Rick turned to him, his eyes reflecting the same concerns Negan harbored.

“We can’t keep going on like this, Rick. It’s only a matter of time before people start dropping like goddamn flies in the heat. Hell, it was taking us ages to get there in the cars, and now...fuck. If we don't find a place to stock up or grab another truck or two soon, we're going to be royally fucked.” It felt redundant to say it aloud when he’d already seen it written all over Rick’s face, but Negan had never been one to leave anything unsaid.

“I know,” Rick replied, voice weary. When he reached out to give the low embers of the fire a nudge with the end of a stick, Negan saw the way his hand shook.

“Jesus, Rick, here,” He reached behind himself, fumbling through one of the backpacks to find a granola bar, holding it out to Rick.

“Negan, I don’t-” Rick started, shaking his head.

“You most certainly fucking  _do_. Listen to me. I’ve seen you, Rick. You think I haven’t noticed you giving Carl and Judith most of your share of the food? Fuck, you’re going to kill yourself doing that shit, you know that, right? And what good are you to them if you’re dead? Huh? Now fucking _eat_. You're shaking.” He unwrapped the bar and pressed it to Rick’s lips. Rick’s expression wavered in uncertainty, and Negan’s face softened. “You’re smarter than this, Rick. You know that you can’t keep this up. So please. Please just fucking eat something.”

Surprisingly, that seemed to do the trick. Rick held his gaze for a moment, intense blue eyes reflecting flickering embers, and then he took a bite, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure at the taste of food in his mouth. Unconsciously, Negan’s tongue flicked out, wetting his lower lip as he watched Rick eat. Rick caught the look, and- thankfully- misinterpreted the hunger in Negan’s eyes as actual physical hunger, and tilted the bar toward him.

“You, too.”

Negan shook his head. “I’ve been eating my share, Rick.”

“Just a bite. It’ll make me feel better about eating this if I know someone else helped. C’mon.”

Negan couldn’t say no, so he took a bite. Just one, before pressing the rest back to Rick, eyes insistent. He hoped the other man wrote off Negan watching him eat as purely an annoying, overprotective gesture instead of what it really was.

Negan’s gaze seemed helplessly drawn to Rick’s mouth, all lips and tongue and teeth as he bit and chewed. There was a small piece of granola, just a crumb, resting in Rick’s beard, just below his lower lip. Unthinkingly, Negan reached out, brushed it away, freezing when he saw Rick’s eyes go wide and he realized what he was doing.

“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t-wasn’t thinking-” he backed away, pulling his hand back, but Rick stilled him with a hand on his wrist.

“It’s fine, Negan. You’re fine.”

* * *

The heat the next day was blistering, a hazy, dry heat that soaked their shirts with sweat. And while Negan normally would have appreciated the sight of sweat-tight shirts clinging to toned bodies- Rick's in particular- he was too damn exhausted to spare him more than a quick look every now and then. By midday, the group’s steps became more of a trudge, aching feet dragging weary, malnourished, thirsty bodies further along an endless stretch of road. Negan stumbled beside Carol, and she shot him a worried look.

“You drank anything today?” She asked, eyeing him skeptically. Her short hair was laden with sweat, sticking to her face in all different directions. Negan managed a weary nod and stepped more carefully.

“Yeah. Fuck. Just…just fucking tired, you know? Shit.” He grumbled. “Don’t know how much longer we can keep doing this.”

Carol’s eyes flashed a warning look, her eyes darting from Carl and then back to Negan. “Don’t talk like that.”

“I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking, Carol. Shit, I’m saying what everyone’s _saying_. It’s not like nobody else is wondering what the fuck we’re gonna do when everything runs out. We’re down to, what, two water bottles? Half full?”

“Keep your voice down.” Carol snapped.

“You know I’m right, Carol.” Negan implored. “You’re smart. You don’t fuckin’ kid yourself or other people. Surely you realize what happens if our luck doesn’t turn around real fucking soon.”

“Of course I do.” Carol replied, her voice low. “But I’m also smart enough to realize that moaning about it won’t solve a single thing. You’re not going to call the rain down from the sky by bitching at it.”

At that, Negan laughed, dry and hoarse, but full of mirth. “Goddamn. I like you, Carol. You know that? You’re a hell of a woman.”

Carol’s mouth twitched at the corners. “Yeah, well. You say away from me, Negan. I don’t want you getting any ideas.”

Negan chuckled good-naturedly. “Wouldn’t dream of it. You’re too good for me, anyway. You’d get sick of my shit real fast. Bet you were a real heartbreaker back in the old days, huh? I can see you, men trippin’ over themselves to be with you, and you don’t spare them a damn look unless they manage to show you they’re something real special. Bet nobody fucked with you.” Carol’s smile faltered a bit, and Negan frowned. “Shit. What’d I say? I didn’t mean it like- I’m not saying you were- that you were a fucking- I don’t even know, I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Carol-”

She brushed him off. “No. No, honey, I know you didn’t. It’s not that. It’s just…that’s not what I was like at all. The opposite of that, in fact.”

Negan cocked his head at her. “What’s that mean?”

“It means,” Carol said, taking a breath, “That I was weak, before all this. Hell, even after all this, for a while. I was married, had a husband…his name was Ed. He was…he wasn’t a nice man. And I knew that, but I married him anyway. And he never changed his ways, only got worse. Got violent. With me, with my…with my daughter, Sophia.” At that, Carol’s voice became tight with sadness, and Negan chanced a hand on her shoulder as they walked in tandem. She covered the hand with her own, squeezing. “I never stood up to him. Only times I did were when…were when Sophia got a little older, and he started looking at her. Differently.” Disgust colored her voice at that.

Nausea churned in Negan’s stomach that had little to do with the dehydration. “What happened to that sick fuck? He dead now?” He hoped with everything in him that he was.

“Yes.” Carol answered. “Yes, he’s dead. Him and Sophia. Not at the same time, but…” She trailed off, and Negan reached out, gave her a one armed- hug.

“Good. Fucking good, about your husband. I hope you don’t fucking mourn that bastard. If you don’t mind me saying.”

Carol managed a smile. “I don’t.”

* * *

Late in the afternoon, they stopped, Daryl and Carol taking off into the woods to try to find some water or something they could bring back to eat, saying they’d meet them up ahead. They kept walking, and only a few hundred yards ahead, they saw it, sitting in the middle of the road.

Water. About a half dozen bottles of it, and four larger gallons completely filled, arranged neatly in the middle of the road with a scribbled note attached:

_From a Friend_

They gathered around it, and Negan looked to Rick. The smaller man looked shaken, disturbed by the sudden offering, and Negan knew why.

Someone had been watching them. Someone that they hadn’t noticed, and they’d been at it long enough to set this up and wait. Rick’s hand was already at his belt, fingers twitching over his holstered gun. It was what they needed, exactly what they needed, and it was terrifying, as enticing as forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden, and potentially as damning.

“We can’t drink it.” Rick said firmly, snatching up the note. A sudden rustling in the trees behind them had them all whirling, Rick’s pistol suddenly raised and cocked, pointed at a rather surprised looking Daryl and Carol. Rick lowered his gun and held the note out to them.

“From a Friend.” Carol read, frowning as her eyes found the water.

“If this is indeed a trap, we’re already in it. And I for one would like to believe that this is, in fact, from a friend.” Eugene said, eyes glued to the bottles.

“And if it isn’t?” Carol asked. “They could have put something in it.”

Eugene seemed to consider that, and then grabbed a bottle anyway.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rosita asked, moving toward him. “Didn’t you hear Carol?”

“Quality assurance.” Eugene replied, raising the bottle to his lips only to have it smacked away by Rick, his eyes deadly.

“We _can’t_.” He reiterated.

And then, like they had passed some sort of test, there was a low rumble overhead. Negan’s eyes turned up to the sky, and just like that, rain poured down, cool and wet and cleansing, soaking them all in the middle of the road. For a moment, the only sounds were incredulous breaths and rolling thunder, and then they were laughing, really, really laughing, hands out to their sides, letting the water hit sweaty, dirty skin.

Negan’s uproarious laughter matched the thunder, and he joined Carl and Eugene in tipping his head up, mouth wide open, toward the sky. Water, he thought, had never tasted this fucking good in all its godforsaken days.

It was a moment of pure, unbridled joy, and with it came an almost childlike wonder. Tara and Rosita lay down beside each other on the road, laughing up at the sky as the rain rolled over them. Negan watched, rapt, as Rick was momentarily overcome with the same giddy rush as the rest of them, his face cracking into a wide smile as he tilted his head back, rain washing over him. He was soaked, the already tight brown shirt he wore clinging to his torso, and Negan felt his gaze lingering there for a moment too long, drinking in the sight. He only managed to break the lustful gaze when Rick sprang into action a minute later.

“Everyone, grab what you can, the bags, the bottles, anything you can find. Fill them up.” He commanded, and Negan moved, helping to spread out containers to collect the falling rain. Once they had a good stockpile, they packed the bottles away again. The thunder overhead was getting louder, deafening cracks splitting the air. Judith began to cry in Carl’s arms, even as he took off his hat to shield her from the rain.

“Let’s keep moving.” Rick called over the sounds of the storm, and Daryl nodded.

“Carol and I found a barn back in the woods a little ways. C’mon.”

* * *

Thankfully, the barn was clear with the exception of one walker holed up in a stall to the side. After Maggie quickly took it out, the group hurried inside, eager to get out of the downpour. Rick nudged his boot into the ground, scuffing up hard-packed dirt.

“We should build a fire. Dry off.” The others nodded, setting to work, gathering looks planks of wood and some bricks to keep it from spreading, and before long they were gathered around a small flame, damp clothes slowly drying. Rick settled in beside Negan, feeling strangely at peace. The barn was hardly an ideal shelter, but it was something, a place to rest for the night and wait out the storm. They had water, they had each other. For the night, everything seemed like it would be okay.

Negan’s presence beside him shouldn’t have been calming, but, somehow, it was. Rick would never say it aloud, but ever since he’d put his trust in Negan, he felt more steady with the man by his side. It had been irrational at first, he knew. His brain’s desperate attempt at comfort and stability in the wake of what had happened to him, never mind that he and Negan hardly knew each other. But now, after these last few weeks of being together, with their nightly talks and Negan’s cautious, respectful touches, he felt better about it. He no longer feared that the trust he had in the other man was misguided. Negan could be an asshole sometimes, certainly, but he was an asshole who, in his own way, almost seemed to care about Rick. And maybe it was juvenile, selfish, ridiculous, but it was comforting to have someone who cared about him particularly.

Rick glanced over at Carl, who was sleeping soundly, curled on the floor with Judith in his arms. He looked so young, _was_ so young. Rick forgot that sometimes, and he had to scold himself for it. After everything Carl had been through, he was still just a kid.

“He’ll be alright.” Carol murmured reassuringly. “He bounces back a lot easier than the rest of us.”

Rick hummed in agreement. “Yeah. I used to feel bad for him. For Judith. Growing up in a world like this. I know Lori...Lori worried about that a lot, them not having enough of a memory of life before this to hold on to. But now…I think I got it wrong. Growing up means getting used to the world. I think it’s easier for them.”

“This isn’t the world.” Michonne said, voice insistent. “It’s not.”

“This is what we have to live with. Until we’re able to make it something else, this is it.” Rick replied. He nudged at the fire, trying to keep it alive despite the damp kindling. “When I was a kid, I asked my grandfather once if he ever killed any Germans in the war. He wouldn’t answer, said that was _grown up stuff_." Rick mused. "So I asked if the Germans ever tried to kill him, and he got real quiet. Said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory. Every day he woke up and told himself, ‘Rest in peace, now get up and go to war’."

He could still remember the look on his grandfather's face as he recounted all of this: deadly serious, like he was imparting some great wisdom to his twelve-year-old grandson. Rick couldn't help but that now that he had been right. "Then, after a few years of pretending he was dead…he made it out alive. That’s the trick of it, I think. We do what we need to do, and then we get to live. No matter what we find in Washington…I know we’ll be okay. Because this is how we survive. We tell ourselves that we are the walking dead.” A silence followed as people digested his words.

“We ain’t them,” Daryl grumbled after a moment. Rick knew what he meant in an instant.

“We’re not.” Rick agreed. And he meant it. They weren’t the same as the bodies outside. They were alive, had some kind of hope. Even if they roamed from place to place, even if they had no direction, even if they occasionally felt hopeless, they weren’t. He had seen too much, lost too much, and come out the other side to believe that everything was pointless.

* * *

They continued to talk well into the night as the storm raged on outside. Rick’s eyes bounced around from person to person, watching vigilantly as Negan dozed beside him. Michonne and Abraham were talking to Sasha, thankfully. She’d been one of the few people who had declined to join them around the fire, even when Michonne had asked if she was cold. She still wore that same expression she’d had since Tyreese’s death: blank, grieving. He was relieved that Michonne and Abraham were reaching out.

There was a sudden weight against Rick’s right side, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. As it was, he sucked in a shocked breath that made Carol turn and look at him strangely. Negan had slumped over in his sleep, his head on Rick’s shoulder. Rick looked at the man leaning on him for a second, considering pushing him away or waking him up, but…Rick realized he didn’t mind. Negan was sleeping peacefully despite the way the rain was hammering down on the barn’s tin roof, and Rick didn’t feel remotely threatened. So he just sat back, trying and failing to bite back an amused smile. He caught Carol’s eye again, and she was giving him a look…more teasing than anything, but he saw the gears turning in her head. Carol was perceptive, watchful…she’d been talking to Negan earlier, though Rick had been too far away to hear what about. That, coupled with the knowing smile made a cold shiver of unease work through him. She didn’t think…surely she didn’t suspect anything? Negan wouldn’t have told her. He wouldn’t.

A sudden crash from the front of the barn had his thoughts pulled elsewhere, and Negan startled awake against him.

“The fuck-”

Another crash against the front doors, and the telltale sounds of snarling and scratching rose over the sounds of the storm. Rick leapt to his feet to see Daryl and Maggie throwing themselves against the barn doors, which were threatening to burst open.

Everyone sprang into action, running to help, piling against the heavy wooden doors. Rick slammed into them beside Maggie, Negan behind him, and he could feel the way the wood shook under him, the weight of God-only-knows how many undead bodies trying to break inside. Seconds later, Rick found himself surrounded by the other members of his group, and, as much as it was not the time for this to be happening, he felt the icy shiver of fear rushing through him.

_Close. They’re too close._

He wasn’t sure who was pressed on either side of him, but he wasn’t really sure that it mattered. He could feel himself taking quick, panicky breaths, his fingers trembling against the wood. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to focus on the sounds of the rain, of the groaning from the other side of the doors, anything to ground him in the moment, but the fear won out. Harsh images flashed through his mind each time someone jostled him or pressed against him.

_Gareth, shoving him onto his stomach, the cold of concrete against his bare skin. Sharp, ripping pain shooting up his spine and down his legs, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Vulgar, mocking words from behind him, so cruel that Rick felt them like they were being cut into his skin-_

“Rick. _Rick_.” A different voice, deep and gravelly and worried, was behind him now. He opened his eyes, tilting his head to see Negan over his shoulder, eyes wide with panic that Rick knew for sure was a reflection of his own expression. Negan’s shoulder was pressed against the door, one hand beside Rick’s head, and then it was off the door, hovering beside Rick, a question, always a question: _Is this okay?_

Rick nodded, and then Negan’s arm was around him, using his body to shield Rick’s. His hand rested above Rick’s on the door, and Rick could hear the soft, whispered words falling from Negan’s lips like cleansing rain:

_You’re okay, you’re okay, it’s okay._

* * *

It seemed like hours before the walkers clawing at the barn doors let up, and when they finally did, everyone was too exhausted from exertion and lack of sleep to investigate why. Rick helped Negan and Michonne push a few crates in front of the doors and then he crawled into a corner, pulling Judith into his arms, and fell asleep almost instantly. His last thoughts before sleep claimed him were of Negan’s words, calming and deep, breathed into his ear so that he could hear them over the storm.

When he woke up a few hours later, Judith was missing from his arms, and his stomach swooped unpleasantly before he jolted up to see that she was with Carl, bouncing happily in his lap. He kissed the tops of their heads as a way of saying good morning.

“You sleep alright? Was she okay?” Rick asked, smoothing a hand over Judith’s hair. Carl nodded.

“Yeah. She woke up a little while ago and I got her before she started crying. She’s been good.”

“And you? I know last night was rough…”

“I’m alright, dad.” Carl assured him. “Really. I’m okay. Everything worked out just fine. Gabriel’s been calling it a miracle.” Carl rolled his eyes at that, and Rick tilted his head.

“A miracle how? That they passed us by?”

“No. You should see it, actually, dad. It’s pretty cool. I’m not gonna say it was a miracle, but…it’s something. There’s a huge tree down in front of the barn. Lightning must have hit it or something, but it took out the walkers. All of them.”

Rick’s eyes went wide. He’d long since given up on believing in things like miracles, but…that sounded like it came pretty damn close. He was about to stand and go check it out for himself when Maggie and Sasha stepped through the front doors of the barn.

“Everyone?” Maggie called, and Rick’s head turned…and then he was on his feet, surging forward because there was a strange man with them. “This is Aaron…he has an offer for us."

Everyone sprang into action all at once, weapons raised on the newcomer. Daryl immediately moved to pat him down, searching him even while Maggie assured them that she and Sasha had already taken his weapons. Rick stood front and center, gun in hand, standing between the man- Aaron- and Carl and Judith. Michonne and Negan flanked him on either side, Negan’s fingers drumming against Lucille’s handle.

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you all.” Aaron took a step forward, only to be pulled back by Daryl. The man’s hands were up, but Rick’s mind still screamed at him to get this person as far away from them as he could.

Eyes not leaving Aaron, Rick addressed Maggie. “You said he had a weapon?” Maggie nodded and came forward, pressing a mall handgun into Rick’s hand. He checked the number of rounds in the chamber- full- and then tucked it away in the back of his jeans. “There something you need?” He growled at Aaron, knowing full well that he was being hostile and not caring in the least bit. The man put him on edge, the way he approached Maggie and Sasha, followed them inside, greeted them with a friendly ‘Hi’, all the while looking completely unbothered. That was what stuck with Rick the most, made him uneasy: he looked completely calm, like the dozen-plus people taking his gun and patting him down an holding weapons on him weren’t a threat to him in the least. Either this guy was extremely confident, or…or he had other people with him, waiting in the wings. The thought made Rick’s skin crawl.

“He has a camp nearby.” Sasha said, sounding just as skeptical as Rick felt. “He wants us to…audition.”

_Audition? What the hell-_

“I wish there was another word…audition makes it sound like we’re some kind of a theater troupe.” Aaron said sheepishly. “That’s only on Friday nights.”

Rick stared at him blankly.

“It’s not a camp, though.” Aaron said. “It’s a community. One that I think you’d all make a valuable addition to. It’s not my call, though. I just recruit people. My job is to convince you to follow me there.” He must have seen the look of utter contempt on Rick’s face because he added, “I know. Trust issues, I get it. If I were you, I wouldn’t go either. Not until I knew exactly what I was getting myself into.” He turned to Sasha. “Sasha, could you hand Rick my bag? Rick’s jaw tightened hearing the man say his name. It meant nothing, he knew, but it still felt like too much information for a complete stranger to have. Sasha walked over and handed Rick a canvas bag. “There’s an envelope in the front pocket. I know there’s no way I could convince you to come just by telling you about our community, so I thought I’d show you.”

Rick pulled out a thin envelope, and inside were…photos. The first one was of a wall that looked to be mad of metal, fortified with poles. “ The first picture is the most important. Nothing I say means anything if you don’t know that you’ll be safe. If you come with me, you will be, that I can promise. The walls are fifteen feet high slabs of solid steel, fortified by steel beams. Nothing gets though those walls that we don’t want. We know that security is important. There’s only one thing that’s more critical, and that’s the people. And that's where you come in.” Rick looked away from the pictures, casting suspicious glances back at Michonne and Negan, who gave him subtle nods. Aaron was going on about how their group could make his community even stronger, but Rick wasn’t listening. The only thing he saw in front of him was a looming threat, and he wasn’t about to let the man keep talking in hopes of winning them over.

Rick strode forward, Aaron still talking, and clocked the man hard in the side of the head. Aaron crumpled to the ground, unconscious, and Rick nodded to Glenn and Daryl, who had surged forward to inspect the damage.

“Tie him up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to leave in so much canon dialogue, but Rick's "We are the walking dead" speech is too iconic to tweak too much.


	10. Chapter 10

Negan whistled low, eyebrows raised in surprise and because, well, he was pretty damn impressed. Impressed and, _yeah_ , okay, maybe a little turned on seeing Rick just deck a guy like that, all confidence and bowlegged swagger as he walked away, leaving Glenn and Daryl to tie Aaron up. Michonne,on the other hand, seemed less thrilled than Negan was with the development, shooting Rick an incredulous look as her eyes darted back and forth from him to Aaron's unconscious form.

“Just to clarify, that wasn’t a _let’s-knock-him-out_ look. It was a _he-seems-like-an-okay-guy_ look.”

Rick brushed it off, his face tight and serious. “I’m not gonna let him keep talking while the rest of his group gets the jump on us.” He turned to Carl. “Dump out his pack, let’s see who this guy really is. Everyone else, spread out, sweep the area. These people are coming for us. We may not know how or when, but they are. This guy was following us, _watching us_. We’re not safe here.”

Negan jumped to attention, peering through the slats in the walls and searching for signs of movement. The area was heavily wooded…anyone could be out there, just beyond the treeline. He heard Maggie trying to tell Rick that the guy could have snuck up on them and didn’t, but Rick didn't appear to be listening. On the floor, Aaron was coming to, complimenting Rick on his punch. Negan understood Rick’s apprehension toward this guy, he really did. As much as he seemed to play the part of the harmless, good-natured traveler, Negan knew better than to think such a thing still existed. The fact that he was waking up from being knocked out cold and _complimenting his attacker_ was…unnerving.

Rick growled at Maggie and Glenn to sit Aaron up, continuing to stare the man down. Even from where Negan was standing beside him, Rick was terrifying, all overgrown beard and corded muscle, his blue gaze icy on the other man. How Aaron was still so resolutely calm was beyond him.

“You’re being cautious, I can understand that-” Aaron began, and Rick cut him off, agitated.

“How many of your people are out there?” He brandished a small orange flare gun in front of him that he must have found in Aaron’s bag. “You have a flare gun to signal them. So how many?”

Aaron held Rick’s gaze. “Does it matter?" He shook his head, anticipating Rick's reaction. "I mean…it matters how many are _actually_ out there, sure, but does it matter how many I _tell_ you are you there? Would you believe me either way? If I said five? Fifteen? A hundred? Zero? You wouldn’t believe me, right?”

Negan had to commend Rick for not reacting, because he could only imagine the spike of fear that went through the other man at that. As unlikely as it was, the mere notion of a hundred possibly-armed and possibly-threatening strangers was blood-chilling.

“What reason do we have to believe you?” Rick growled.

“Well, to start with, I’m the one who left the water for you,” Aaron said. “But you all seem pretty smart, so I’m thinking you probably already guessed that. I know you probably don’t like to think about someone following you, but I’ll tell you this, I was impressed with what I saw. You people…you practically ignore the dead, like they’re barely even a threat to you. You’ve got to be hungry, you were running low on water, and you never once turned on each other. You’re _survivors_.”

Rick ignored this, still focused on his original unanswered question.

“How many others are out there?”

Aaron sighed. “One. Just one.” He must have been able to read the look on Rick’s face, because he kept going. “What can I do to get you all to believe me? If I can’t say anything, if the pictures aren’t enough- what will it take? I’m willing…I’m willing to drive you to the community. Show you what you’d be getting into. Me and my partner- we took two cars, there’s enough room for all of you. You could come and see for yourselves that I’m not lying.”

Rick’s glare intensified. “You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?”

Aaron’s eyes were wide, sincere. “Rick…look, if I wanted to ambush you, I’d do it here, not there. Set the barn on fire as you slept, pick you off one by one-” At that, Rick’s gun was raised, trained on Aaron’s head, and Negan caught the faintest tremor of fear rolling through him. Aaron’s hands flew up in surrender, and Negan reached out when Rick didn’t lower his arm.

“Rick,” He murmured, his hand hovering over the one clutching the gun, “Don’t.” Rick met his eyes, tense and wary, but lowered his gun without returning it to his holster.

Michonne was the first to break the terse silence.

“I’ll check it out. See if he’s telling the truth about the cars.” She offered, turning to Rick.

“No. There’s nothing to check out.”

“The might be.” She replied tersely. “You know what you know. And you’re sure of it. But I’m not.”

“Me neither.” Maggie added. Rick shook his head, and Negan could tell his jaw was flexing even underneath the wool of his beard.

“Your way’s dangerous. Mine isn’t.”

“Passing up a place where we can live, where Judith and Car can live and be safe? That’s pretty dangerous. We need to check this place out. We can handle ourselves. So I’m going. Maggie is going. Whoever else wants to come, we’re going, and we’ll scope it out, and we’ll report back.”

In the end, Abraham, Rosita, and Glenn left with Michonne and Maggie. Everyone else stayed behind, following Rick’s orders to pair off and scope out the area, stand watch over the barn. Negan was surprised when Rick asked him to stay with him and Judith, but he didn’t question it.

Negan leaned against one of the support beams, Lucille poised over his shoulder as he glowered at Aaron. Aaron sat tied across from him, calm but resigned, regarding Negan warily, like he was a guard dog ready to be let loose. And, hell, maybe that's exactly what he was. Rick was clearly agitated- or, at least, it was clear to Negan since he spent so much time paying attention to Rick’s comfort level and mood. He held Judith in his arms like a security blanket, bouncing her on his hip in a vain attempt to keep her quiet. The poor kid was hungry, Negan thought sadly. They’d run out of actual baby food a few days ago, and Rick had been mashing up whatever the rest of them had been eating to try to make up for that, but still…she was just a baby, and probably far too young to be going so long between meals.

Aaron must have put two and two together seeing Rick rummage through their bags while Judith fussed more and more insistently. “There’s a jar of applesauce in my bag,” he offered. Rick and Negan’s eyes both flashed over to the jar that Rick had pulled out earlier, sitting atop a crate with Aaron's other belongings. When Rick didn’t immediately move to take it, Aaron sighed. “Look, this isn’t a trick, it’s not me bribing you so you'll come with me. It’s self-preservation. If the dead hear her crying, I know I’ll be the first to go. So please. Just take it.”

Rick glanced between Aaron and the jar again before giving in, handing Judith off to Negan before grabbing it and taking a spoonful. Instead of feeding it to Judith, though, he walked over, crouched, and shoved the spoon in front of Aaron's face. "You first."

Aaron stared at the spoon, horrified. “You think I’d try to poison a baby?”

Rick’s face didn’t soften. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’re capable of, and I’m not going to put my daughter at risk. Eat it.”

Aaron frowned and closed his lips tightly when Rick pressed the spoonful to his mouth. “I hate applesauce. My mother- she used to make me eat food I didn’t like to make me more manly-”

Rick’s face hardened. “Like you said. You’ll be the first to go.”

Aaron seemed to consider that, and with a look of disgust, he swallowed the spoonful. Rick took a small spoonful for himself, seemed to determine that it wasn't poisoned, and grabbed the jar. He sat on the barn floor and patted the ground beside him, and Negan sank down, Judith in his lap, while Rick spooned applesauce into her hungry mouth. Her crying stopped almost immediately, and she ate happily, chubby hands grabbing for the spoon. Negan smiled as he watched, relief spreading through him.

_Maybe this guy's alright._

He was suspicious, sure. Guy shows up out of nowhere, offering a supposed safe place…well, he’d had too many close calls with other people to jump right onto the bandwagon. And God only knows how terrified Rick must be, the memory of Terminus still fresh in his mind. But for a moment, watching Rick and Judith, Negan let himself consider the possibility. A place for them, walls, food, shelter. No more living in cars, no more wondering if they were going to find enough food so that everyone could eat, no more walking miles upon miles in search of a sanctuary that may not actually exist. Resting easy knowing that the dead weren't going to come crawling in while they slept.

When Judith had her fill, Rick resealed the jar, setting it aside, and Negan shifted the little girl into Rick’s arms. She gurgled contentedly against Rick’s chest, and Negan placed a gentle hand over Rick’s knee, making the smaller man look up at him.

“What?”

Negan shrugged, thumb absentmindedly rubbing at the worn denim. “I don’t fucking know, Rick. Just…maybe it’s worth a shot, you know? For her and Carl, at least?” He murmured the words, hoping to cushion them, make some of that tension drain out of Rick’s tightly wound body. Rick’s eyes were fixed on Judith, who was now dozing, sleepy and full and worn out from her earlier crying, in his lap.

“We’ll see what the others find.” He replied absently, sounding very much like he wasn’t buying it. Negan gave his knee a squeeze.

“Rick,” He murmured, and Rick looked up at him, and there it was, etched deep in his eyes, in the worried lines of his face: fear. Not just “I don’t know about this” fear, but real, deep terror seated in his pale eyes. It made Negan lose his breath for a moment, made him want to pull Rick in closer, comfort him, make that look go away. As it was, all he could do was make a promise that he was determined to keep.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” He whispered, the words a weight in the air between them. “I know what you’re thinking, and I fucking get it, I do, but I swear to you, Rick, nothing like that is going to happen. I’ll die before I let that happen to you again. You, or anyone else. If we…if we decide to go, if we give it a try and you feel like anything is off, I’ll follow your fucking lead. Whatever you fucking need, I’ve got your back.”

Rick’s eyes widened, locked intensely on Negan’s, and Negan held his gaze, letting him look, letting him see just how much he meant it. After a long moment, Rick nodded, dropping his eyes. A moment later, Negan felt a warm, hesitant hand slide over his, squeezing.

If anyone asked, his stomach _definitely_ didn’t swoop in a ridiculously giddy manner. No fucking way.

* * *

When the rest of the group got back, they came bearing gifts in the form of supplies pillaged from an RV that they’d found parked alongside a second car just a few miles out. Two vehicles, more than enough room for them all. Aaron hadn’t been lying. There had been no sign of another person, Michonne said, but Aaron quickly pointed out that his partner had gone in the opposite direction from him, splitting off to cover more ground.

“We’re keeping this,” Rick growled at Aaron as he observed the cans of food stacked on the table in front of him. “Whether or not we go with you. This is ours now.”

Aaron dipped his head in acquiescence. “That’s…that’s fine. Plenty more where I’m from. But Rick…you heard them. I’m not lying. There’s no reason not to at least come, check it out-”

Rick rounded on him, face dangerous. “There’s plenty of reasons not to fucking come.” He snapped. Michonne reached out for him, and he jerked back, looking nearly feral in his mistrust. He knew that he was reacting strongly- hell, he _felt_ strongly. He was scared out of his fucking mind at the very notion of choosing to walk back into another supposed “sanctuary”.

“Rick. Why wouldn’t we go?” Michonne asked, approaching more cautiously. “We would know by now if he were lying, if he was going to hurt us. We were split up. Nothing happened. We need this.” The resolve in her eyes was steely and unwavering. “So we’re going. Somebody say something now if they feel differently.”

Nobody spoke, and Rick saw that he was fighting a losing battle. These people- his friends, his family- were looking at him expectantly, hope in their eyes. Hope edged with desperation, an all-consuming need for stability, for a life. A life they were being offered, right here, right now.

He was backed into a corner, he knew that. And he didn’t want to deny them this, not if there was a chance. And, underneath all his fear, he knew there was.

_Nobody else knows what happened at Terminus. We made it out alive. We did. If we have to, we can do that again._

So what else could he say except, “Yeah. We’re going.”

* * *

They agreed to leave at sundown. Aaron refused to tell them where the community was outright, out of a sense of preservation for the people there, and Rick wasn’t about to roll up to the gates in the middle of the day. They’d take 23 north- a route that Aaron insisted was more dangerous than I-16 like he suggested, but Rick wasn’t willing to run the risk of being spotted by the group in case their arrival was anticipated. The element of surprise was all they had, and he was going to keep it like that.

He told his group to get some rest and pack up before they left and then took a step outside. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe quite right, and he needed to get out of the barn, away from all the shuffling bodies and stares.

He leaned against the hood of one of the cars, taking deep, calming breaths, when Michonne’s voice sounded beside him.

“Did you mean it? When you said we were going to go? Or did you just want him to tell you where the camp is?”

Rick sighed. “I meant it.”

She nodded, joining him. He noticed immediately that she stood a little further from him than she normally would, giving him space. He wasn’t sure if it made him feel better or worse, knowing that she’d caught on.

“You don’t want to go, I get that.” She said calmly. “After how Terminus ended, I can’t blame you. But we need this. I know you can see that.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, “I can.”

“You’re not alright. I can see that. I just…I just wanted you to know. You haven’t been right since Terminus, and I understand that. We went there looking for shelter, and we very nearly died because of it. But I have a good feeling about this, Rick. You know I wouldn’t insist we go if I thought otherwise. You know I wouldn’t bring Carl or Judith there if I didn’t think we had a chance.”

He nodded. “I know.”

That seemed to satisfy her, and she pushed off the car, making to head back inside the barn. She stopped after a couple steps, turning to face him. “Terminus wasn’t your fault, Rick. I know you, how you blame yourself, take all that weight on your shoulders. But what happened there…it wasn’t your fault. We needed to go there. If we hadn’t, we would have never found Maggie, or Glenn, or Carol…or anyone. When you and I decided to go there, I still think it was the right choice. We made it out alive. You got us out alive. Just remember that.”

He swallowed hard around his words, caught thickly in his throat: _not everything that happened there needed to happen._ But he couldn’t say that. As much as he appreciated her encouragement, and as much as he knew that she wouldn’t think of him any differently…he couldn’t.

Instead, he reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. The first person other than his children and Negan that he’d willingly touched.

“Thank you.”

* * *

23-North was a long, quiet stretch of backroad up until it wasn’t. One moment, they were speeding down the road, Negan at the wheel with Rick, Michonne, and Aaron in the car with him, and then in a single, brief second, their night took a turn for the worse when Negan plowed straight into a walker.

Not just one, either. A whole goddamned motherfucking _herd_ of them, suddenly swarming the narrow street like ants on spilled ice cream. The initial crash was jarring, a sudden spatter of discolored gore on the car’s windshield, and then it didn’t stop.

“Fucking fuck!” He yelped, alarm tinting his voice as he continued to ram down on the gas pedal, bowling through undead bodies and weaving around those that he could avoid. He could hear Rick’s tense, short breaths from beside him, could imagine the uneasy look on his and Michonne’s faces as he kept driving. The whole car shook with each hit, jolting them all as the windows were painted over with a sickly reddish-brown. Even more alarming was the windshield, which was all but coated in gore. Negan could have closed his eyes and it wouldn’t have made a lick of difference- his visibility was next to zero, and the jarring slams indicating that they were hitting the undead didn’t stop coming.

“The others, are they still behind us?” Rick called over the noise of impact and growling.

“They’re not back there.” Michonne replied from the backseat.

“Circle back, they must have gotten away.” Rick ordered, and Negan whipped the car around, turning on the luckily still functioning windshield wipers to wipe away the worst of the muck. Unfortunately, no further than a few hundred yards down the road, the car began to sputter, and then died completely.

“Fuck, _fuck_ -” Negan jumped out after Rick to assess the damage…and they were fucked. The vents in the front of the car were jammed full of flesh and bone, whole arms wedged into gaps in the metal. “It’s not gonna fucking start again-”

“We have to go!” Aaron yelled suddenly, and they turned in unison to see why: they hadn’t bypassed the herd, not by a long shot. A teeming mass of snarling, stumbling bodies was making their way toward them. To make matters worse, a sudden light split the sky: a flare. Aaron’s face went from worried to all-out panicked. “Shit. I have to go. _Now!”_ And without a look back, he took off into the woods, leaving the three of them in his dust. Michonne immediately began to sprint after him.

“Michonne! Leave him!” Rick shouted.

“If the others saw that flare, they probably thought it was us! This is how we find them!” She disappeared behind Aaron into the foliage, and Negan snatched Lucille out of the car before turning to Rick and nodding, following his lead into the treeline.

Aaron had disappeared from sight, but Michonne was still close by, leading the way with her sword drawn as they wove through moonlit trees. Some of the herd had spilled out into the forest and were now growling at their heels as they ran. Rick whirled, shooting a few close ones down with deadly precision. They stumbled into a relatively clear path, only to be surrounded by the dead seconds later. Negan swung Lucille down on skull after rotted skull, the bat’s barbs now sporting a heavy layer of decaying flesh. It happened fast, before he could even realize it- one moment, he was right beside Rick and Michonne, and then he was alone, backing up as he cracked heads and stumbling further into the woods.

_Shit, fuck shit-_

And then he heard it, a faint but definitively human shout in the distance. He shoved one last walker away, thankful for the protection of his jacket, and ran toward the noise.

_Please let them be fucking okay-_

The person turned out to be Aaron, his wrists still tied, trying to fight off a single walker with just his legs. Negan debated for a moment- the man had left them, after all- but he couldn’t do it. The guy was helpless, tied- maybe it was the humanity of Rick and his group rubbing off on him, but he couldn’t just let the guy die like that. Negan moved fast, bringing Lucille down on the walker’s head in a deadly arc, he and Aaron watching as it crumpled to the ground. He pulled his knife, undoing the other man’s hands.

“Thanks.” Aaron said, rubbing his wrists. Negan looked him up and down warily.

“Why’d you fucking run like that? If I was a little more of a douchebag- _fuck_ , if I was the douchbag I’d been a month ago, I would have let your ass get turned into dead-guy dinner just now.”

“That flare was from my partner- it was to signal that one of us got into trouble. I’m not just gonna leave him out here if he’s hurt! Would you leave Rick?” It struck Negan as a bit strange that Aaron immediately chose Rick as the first person Negan wouldn’t leave behind, but maybe he’d just been throwing out the first name that came to mind.

“No, I fucking wouldn’t.”

“Then you understand why I had to go. We can make it back to them- together.”

Negan nodded, and then they continued down the path, listening intently for the sounds of walkers and people. As they moved, Negan reached for his belt, pulling the gun he had there out of its holster and pressing it into Aaron’s hands.

“Don’t fucking make me regret giving you this.” He warned, and Aaron nodded.

“I won’t.”

And, ten minutes later, he lived up to that, when they came across a small group of the undead in their path. Together, they mowed them down, clearing the way from them to see-

“Rick!” Negan yelled, relieved to see Rick and Michonne standing, unharmed, across from them. Rick eyed the gun in Aaron's grasp uneasily, and Aaron held his hands up.

“If you wanna tie me up again, feel free.”

Rick jerked his head. “No time. We’re going this way.”

The four of them made their way to I-16, which was, as Aaron had promised earlier at the barn, clear of the dead. It was also completely empty, and Negan’s stomach dropped. Surely the others had made it here, right…?

“Where are they?” Rick barked, turning on Aaron dangerously.

“I- I don’t know. They probably kept going-”

“If this is a trap, if you led us here- your people are going to die tonight.” Rick snarled, and Negan absolutely believed him. If he’d though Rick had been on edge before, it was nothing compared to now. He clearly thought that this had been a setup- and while Negan had the same lingering worry, he’d also seen the panic on Aaron’s face- he’d been scared when that flare went off. Whatever was happening, something had gone wrong on their end, too. Rick turned and began making his way down the road. “The flare went off by that water tower,” He called, indicating the one in the distance, “Come on.”

Michonne confiscated Aaron’s gun and walked alongside him, keeping a watchful eye on the man, and Negan caught up to Rick.

“Hey. You alright?”

Rick didn’t spare him a glance, his sights focused on the road ahead. “I didn’t want to do this. We could be walkin' straight into a trap right now, you know that, right?”

“I know. I fucking know. But we’ve got to find the others, right? I know you’re not going to just leave them.” Rick sighed, but said nothing. “And it may not be a trap, Rick. We could have just had bad fucking luck. Aaron told us that road wasn’t clear.” When Rick didn’t respond, he slid a hand onto the smaller man’s shoulder. Maybe he was imagining it, but he could swear he almost felt Rick relax a bit under the touch. At the very least, it didn’t seem to bother him. “We’re gonna be al-fucking-right, Rick.”

* * *

It took them a while to get off the road and into an area with buildings. The water tower loomed nearby, and Rick whistled down alleyways, listening for a response as they scoured the area for a sign that the rest of their group or whoever had shot off the flare was nearby. They got one a few minutes later, a sharp whistle that turned out to be from Daryl signaling an all clear, and then they were running down the alleyway behind a warehouse. The RV the others had been in was parked down the alley, and the rest of the group spilled out of the warehouse to meet them, Carl running into Rick’s arms. Negan stood back, watching as the others hugged, and then, much to his surprise, he found himself being pulled into one by Carol, and then Beth.

“Glad you’re alright,” Beth said, her words paired with a genuine smile and a tight squeeze around his middle, and Negan felt the strangest burn behind his eyes.

“I, uh. Yeah. You too, kid,” He mumbled, patting her awkwardly on the back as Carol squeezed his arm. She had that same knowing smile she always wore, like she could tell exactly how choked up he was getting, and he quickly dipped his head and shuffled awkwardly.

Negan and the others headed inside, and Aaron was calling out for someone name Eric, whom he must have found in one of the rooms in the small warehouse. Rick followed after him, and they came back out together a few minutes later.

Rick’s shadowed form lingered in the doorway as Aaron addressed the group.

“Thank you. All of you. You…you saved Eric. I owe all of you. And that debt will be repaid in full when we get to my community. When we get to Alexandria.” He smiled weakly. “I don’t know about all of you, but I sure don’t want to do any more driving tonight. We can head out first thing in the morning, if that’s alright.”

Rick stepped out a little further, nodding. “That’s fine. First thing tomorrow. But if we’re staying here tonight, you’re sleeping over _there_ ,” He pointed, indicating the opposite side of the room, away from the room that held Aaron’s partner.

Maggie shook her head, “I don’t really think that’s necessary-”

“It is," Rick said. "This is the smart call. We keep an eye on them, nobody tries anything.”

Aaron’s eyes were suddenly fierce, his voice resolute. “The only way you’re going to keep me away from him right now is by killing me. Look, I’ve proven to you all that I’ve been telling the truth. He’s the only person with me, and he’s got a broken ankle. You outnumber us, and God knows I’m sure you’re going to have someone up keeping watch. Give me this.”

Rick looked uneasy, but nodded after a moment. “Alright.”

At that, Aaron immediately returned to the back room, and Rick addressed the group. “Settle in. I’ve got first watch. Get some sleep. No matter which way this goes…we’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Everyone seemed to be of the same mind, and there was a collective wash of relief that they wouldn’t be attempting to make the rest of the drive tonight. Negan sat to the side, watching as Rick checked on Carl and Judith, who were already nodding off slumped against the wall. Negan couldn’t hold back the tired smiled when Rick sank down next to him. It was a tad sentimental, maybe, but every time Rick chose to be close to him, he could feel a warmth spreading through his chest, like Rick's presence ignited something in him.

“You alright?” Negan kept his voice low, careful not to disturb the sleeping people trying to get comfortable on the hard warehouse floor. When Rick didn’t answer, he slid one hand over the other man's, pulling back when Rick winced. “Shit, sorry-”

Rick shook his head, scooting closer and pressing his shoulder to Negan’s. “It’s not that. Just finally feelin’ it from when I punched Aaron.” Negan laughed quietly and took Rick’s hand between his, more gently this time, holding it close to his face and running his thumb along the slim fingers. Rick's accent tended to get a bit thicker when he talked to people one-on-one, he noticed. It was endearing, that warm-as-honey southern drawl, the way he started dropping g's off the end of his words.

“Nothing’s broken,” He hummed. “You didn’t answer my question, though. Are you alright? With us going?”

Rick flexed his fingers between Negan’s hands, not pulling away. “If I’m bein’ honest? No. But I know that’s on me. That’s my problem. The rest of the group thinks we need to check it out, and Aaron’s been honest with us so far. I know I’m not bein’ rational, wanting to stay out there.”

“You’re scared.” Negan stated simply, and he felt Rick tense against him, start to pull away like he thought Negan was mocking him. “Rick, I don’t fucking- Jesus, you have every reason to be. I don’t think less of your for it. Fuck, if anything, it’s more impressive that you’re willing to go, knowing…knowing how you feel about it. You’re doing what you know is best for everyone, for your kids, not just for you. You’re a good leader. A good father.”

“I hate bein’ scared.” Rick whispered the words like a sinner in confession, like they were a source of shame, a great burden on his shoulders. It made Negan want to play the priest and lift them.

“You’re less scared than you were. You never would’ve done this-” He indicated where their hands were intertwined, “-when we met. You’re getting better. This shit takes time.”

“You’ve been helpin’ me a lot,” Rick murmured and squeezed his hand. “With this. It’s not bothering me like it was. Not as badly, anyway. Thank you.”

Negan nodded. “No fucking problem, Rick.”

* * *

True to his word, Aaron was up and ready to lead them to Alexandria first thing in the morning. He and Eric- who turned out to be his partner in all senses of the word- rode with the others in the RV while Rick, Negan, Michonne, and the kids took a separate car that they’d found near the warehouse.

And, because nothing could ever be simple, about halfway to Alexandria, the RV broke down. Abraham was immediately frustrated, smacking the metal angrily, but Glenn stayed calm, got to work. Rick leaned against the hood of the car, not keen to stay inside with no air conditioning, and felt a hollow pang of melancholy as Glenn showed Abraham where the spare battery was stored- he knew exactly how Glenn knew where it was and what to do.

“Wouldn’t have pegged that kid for a car guy, but he’s fixin’ that shit right up.”  Negan rumbled beside him, sitting atop the hood of the car.

Rick's eyes stayed on Glenn. “He had a good teacher. Guy that was with us for a while, back at the beginning, named Dale. He had an RV that we were driving around in for a while. Practically living out of. He and Glenn were pretty close, showed him a few things.”

“Pick up a lotta shit, living with people like this.” Negan agreed, turning his eyes on Michonne as she joined them on the hood. “How about you? You wanna teach me the way of the sword, samurai?”

She chuckled. “We’ll see. You gonna teach me how to play baseball?” She nodded back to the car, where Lucille sat in the passenger seat.

“You need a few pointers?”

“Not really, actually,” She admitted. “I played softball in college.”

Rick shifted uncomfortably between them, the light conversation, harmless as it was, grating on his frayed nerves. Halfway there. In a couple short hours, they’d be in Alexandria, and everything would change.

That, or everything would go horribly wrong, and they’d be out on their own again, and possibly down more people-

“Rick.” Michonne’s voice drew him out of his troubled thoughts. She picked up on his agitation, and her tone shifted, her face caring. “I know what you’re thinking. I do. But you can’t keep living like this, Rick. You’ve gotta give up the fight. I know it’s hard, when it’s kept you warm, and fed, and alive. But you have to. It turns on you.”

“Bob said something like that, back at the church. Before he died,” Rich murmured, looking down at his hands. “Told me nightmares end. That you shouldn’t let them end who you are. And I get that, I think. You’ve gotta know when to let things go. When to let people in.” He could feel Negan's eyes on him, feel the warmth of a hand on his arm, meant to comfort.

The sudden roar of the RV engine purred up ahead, and people cheered, filing back inside. Rick pushed off the hood of the car. “I’ll be back. I just…I just need a minute, before we go.” Negan and Michonne nodded, and Rick stepped away, off the side of the road and into the trees. He walked a short way, eyes searching for somewhere he could- perfect!

A small, dilapidated house stood out from the trees, junk piled in in the shambling front yard- grimy children’s toys, kitchenware, broken furniture. He made a mental note of the area, which direction he came from, and pulled out a small handgun from his pocket.

 _Just in case_ , he assured himself.

He tucked the gun away inside a mostly-intact bender, sealing the lid over it before heading back to the cars.

* * *

It was another hour before they rolled up to the front gate of Alexandria. Rick had taken the lead a while back, and stopped in front of a solid metal wall. It looked just as it had in Aaron’s pictures- tall, sturdy, reinforced.

Rick rolled the window down, listened. He thought back to Terminus- the eerie quiet that had seeped from its walls. No signs of life, not from the outside, because there had been nothing to find inside.

And then he heard it. Faint, but unmistakable. Laughter, the delighted cries of…of _children_. Rick’s throat felt thick as he stared at the walls in front of him, a sudden, hopeful flash worming its way into his heart.

Kids. Other kids. This…this really could be a place for Judith and Carl. He felt Negan’s hand on his shoulder, Michonne’s hand covering his on the steering wheel.

“You fucking ready, Rick?”

Rick nodded and stepped out of the car, taking Judith into his arms when Negan handed her off to him. He clutched her a bit tighter as the gate was opened, and the group cautiously made their way inside.

* * *

Negan whistled, long and low as the gate was pulled closed behind them. “Hot diggity dog. This place is magnificent,” He breathed, impressed. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the pictures, but this hadn’t at all been what he was expecting. This was no ramshackle camp- it was a goddamn upscale neighborhood, perfectly preserved. Huge houses that probably had probably cost people an arm and a leg in the old world, nice lawns and trees nicely spaced between streetcorners. It was the kind of place he and Lucille could only have dreamed about affording. The irony of it, that he would only get to live in a place this nice at the end of the goddamn world, almost made him laugh.

The man who had opened the gate for them- a wiry guy who looked to be in his twenties, eyed their weapons warily. “Before we go any further, you need to give us your weapons. You want to say, you hand them over.”

The response was instantaneous, a collective tension falling over the group, and Rick stepped forward, his gun in his hand even as he cradled Judith tightly in his arms. It stayed by his side, but Negan knew that if anything went sideways, it would be up in an instant. “We don’t know if we want to stay,” Rick growled, and Negan moved beside him, one hand covering the hand that gripped the gun, a silent gesture that was both a comfort and a plea: it’s okay, don’t draw too quick.

Thankfully, Aaron waved the other man down. “It’s alright, Nicholas. I can vouch for them. They’re fine. They should speak to Deanna first, anyway.”

“Who’s Deanna?” Abraham called from the back of the group.

“She’s our leader, I suppose you’d say. She knows everything you’d want to know about this place." Aaron answered, turning to face an uneasy Rick. "Rick, why don’t you start?”


	11. Chapter 11

Negan scuffed the heel of his boot impatiently against the wood of Deanna Monroe's front porch as he waited for his turn to be interviewed by Alexandria’s leading lady. Rick, Michonne, Carl, and a handful of the others had already come and gone, and Rick, being first, had explained what would happen. Deanna would record them, ask them questions about their lives, how they’d gotten here, the things they’d done. Ridiculously, Negan felt like he was waiting to be called into the principal’s office.

After Rick had come out and given his approval, they’d been asked to hand over their weapons. “Just within the walls, we have an armory. They’ll be kept there, you’ll be more than welcome to them whenever you go beyond the wall.” Aaron promised. Negan felt like a damn child, clinging tightly to Lucille’s handle as the others unloaded their guns and knives onto a cart to be taken away to the armory. He noticed Rick doing the same with his gun, discomfort swimming in his eyes.

Except Rick had a valid reason to not want to give up his weapon. Negan…Negan was just being fucking sentimental.

The woman with the cart had looked expectantly at them, and Negan, uncaring if she found it weird, pressed a quick kiss to an unbarbed section of Lucille before placing her reverently atop the pile. Rick reluctantly followed suit, giving up his gun with an uneasy look in his eyes.

“You take real good care of my girl, sweetheart.” Negan had muttered to the woman, and she’d looked torn between confusion and laughter for a moment before nodding solemnly and carting the weapons away.

Negan definitely didn't stare longingly after Lucille as she was carted away. Nope.

* * *

"You're Negan, am I right?" A short woman probably ten or so years Negan's senior stood in the open doorway as Sasha stepped out of the house and walked down the porch steps. "I'm Deanna. Would you like to come in?"

The inside of Deanna's house was jarringly picturesque. To Negan, it looked like a house in a magazine, even with the papers and books strewn across counters and coffee tables. _Coffee tables_. A kitchen with a refrigerator, a stove. Lamps and clean sofas, bookshelves filled with thick tomes. The house, much like everything inside the walls, looked utterly untouched by the chaos of the outside world. It made him wonder how untouched the people living inside were.

“Fuck,” Negan muttered, “I wasn’t living this nice before the world went to shit.”

“If it helps, neither was I,” Deanna said from across the room. She was watching him as he took everything in, and when he turned to face her, she gestured toward an armchair. He shrugged and dumped himself into it, letting himself enjoy the simple wonders of comfortable seating. Fuck, this was the most luxurious thing he’d come across in God only knows how long. He could sleep here, curled up like a damn baby. It'd probably be the best night's sleep he'd gotten in years.

“Can’t fucking believe this place. It’s like I’m through the damn looking glass right now, you know that? Can’t tell you the last time I’ve seen this shit- you’ve been living like this the whole fucking time?”

“Yes. We were evacuated here by the military, at the beginning. We were told it was a safe zone, that people would be coming back for us when the crisis had been taken care of. Naturally, that never happened.”

 _Goddamn. These people haven't been out there at all._ “And the wall?”

“There was a shopping mall that was under construction nearby. All these huge sheets of metal, just going to waste. My husband, Reg, is an architect. He planned the whole thing, built it with the help of the community.” There was a note of pride in Deanna’s voice at that. And, shit, she fucking earned it. Alexandria really was a goddamn oasis in the desert of the fucking apocalypse.

“Well, it’s a hell of a nice place, I’ll give you that. And you just invite people right in? Send out a couple guys to scout and then take in a whole pack of strangers? You don’t fucking think that could backfire on you somehow? Seems like you’re opening yourselves up to attack.”

“Are you and your group planning on attacking us?” Her voice indicated that she didn’t think that was a valid concern, and considering she’d already talked to Rick and some of the others, she was right.

“No. Not unless this cute-ass neighborhood turns out to be a horror show.”

“You’ve had bad experiences with other people, then?”

“You haven’t?” Negan countered.

Deanna’s face was grim. “We have. There was a group we took in, a while back. A group we shouldn’t have taken in.”

“Yeah? What happened to them?”

“We exiled them.  _I_ exiled them. A few of our people drove them out.”

“You just fucking…sent them on their merry way?” Negan asked disbelievingly. 

“You and I both know that being sent out there is nearly as good as a death sentence, Negan.”

“They could have gotten back in. Driven a truck through a wall, climbed a tree and hopped the fence.”

“They didn’t, though," Deanna countered.

Negan whistled low, shaking his head. “Goddamn, you people are fucking lucky we’re here.”

* * *

Rick blinked up at the house in front of him- the house that, according to Aaron, was now theirs. They were being given access to a couple of them, all in a row. The neighborhood was pretty big, Aaron had explained, and there were plenty of empty houses for the taking.

When he and Carl stepped through the front door, he had to resist the urge to pinch himself. It was huge, clean and furnished with fresh folded blankets and sheets stacked on the kitchen table. When Carl wandered into the kitchen and turned the knob on the sink, _clean water_ came out. They both stared in shocked awe for a moment until their eyes met, the same hopeful question written on both their faces.

_Running water? Hot showers?_

They made their way upstairs to one of the bathrooms, and as it turned out, hot showers were very much a thing they had in Alexandria. Rick let Carl take the first one while he explored the rest of the house- four bedrooms, three bathrooms, actual mattresses to sleep on, and a refrigerator that kept things cold. 

It was unbelievable. An untouched sanctuary, completely cut off from the outside world while you were behind the walls.

It all seemed too good to be true, but if it was, Rick was at least going to get a hot shower out of it. When faced with the people living in Alexandria, with the pristine homes and tidy appearances, Rick was suddenly aware of how filthy he was. Back in Deanna’s house, while he was being interviewed, he’d placed one hand against a white wall, and when he’d pulled it away a minute later, he’d been horrified to see he’d left a dirty handprint on the paint. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bathed. His last proper shower was back at the prison, and that was…God, that was months ago now. He’d given himself a quick wash with bottled water when they’d still had some to spare, but even that had been some time ago, and past that…past that, he was caked in a thick layer of dirt, grease, and sweat.

He entered the still-steamed bathroom after Carl was done. He kicked off his boots and stripped off his clothes. _I can wash those, too,_ he realized. Clean clothes. A strange, foreign luxury. When he stepped under the hot spray of the shower, the effect was instantaneous: the water hit his skin and rolled down his body, pooling in a sullied puddle around his feet. He cranked the heat up a bit and tipped his face up into the spray, feeling it soak him.

 _God, that feels amazing_ , Rick thought as the hot water beat down onto his back.

He got a strange sense of satisfaction as he grabbed the soap and began washing away the grime, watching with fascination as the dirt was scrubbed off. And then, halfway through the second time washing his hair, something hit him.

_I haven’t bathed since Terminus._

_He’s still on me._

Rick doubled over and dry heaved into the shower drain, his whole body shaking. He grabbed the soap again and turned the heat the rest of the way up, the glass stall steaming up until he couldn’t see out of it. He scraped at his skin, working the soap into a lather again and again and again.

_Get it off._

_Get it off._

_Get him off of me._

* * *

After Negan got done at Deanna’s, Aaron directed him to the houses that they were going to be staying in- _houses, plural_ , Negan thought with awe.

“Where’s Rick?” Negan asked when they stopped in front of a row of picturesque homes.

“That’s the one Rick chose,” Aaron answered with a knowing smile, pointing to a large, white house with a sizable front porch that Daryl appeared to be gutting an opossum on.

Classy.

“I imagine he and the rest of your group are enjoying the hot water.”

Negan’s head whipped around to face Aaron. “Hot water?”

Aaron grinned. “Yep. The whole place was set up with its own filtration system and cisterns. Solar grids, too, so we get electricity as well, though we try to ration it during daylight hours. The signs nearby advertising this place said it was built for sustainability. They weren't wrong.”

Negan nodded, only half hearing him. “Goddamn, this place really has everything! I think I’m gonna go take fucking advantage, man.”

“Of course. I’ll send someone along with some extra supplies. Food, toiletries, some more applesauce for Judith- necessities.”

Negan shouted his thanks, already halfway up the front steps. Daryl grunted his acknowledgment as Negan bounded up the stairs before returning to his critter-gutting, and then Negan stepped inside.

Carl was on the couch, bouncing Judith on his lap and making her giggle. He looked up as Negan entered, watching him take the place in.

Negan whistled. “We’re gonna be living in a goddamned Barbie dream house. Holy shit. I’m pretty sure my house before all this was about half this size, if not smaller. How fucking big is it?”

Carl didn’t bother to remind Negan of Rick’s no-swearing-in-front-of-the-kids rule. “Four bedrooms,” He grinned, his expression suddenly childlike in a way the Negan had never seen before. “Dad said I can have my own room.”

Negan chuckled as he wandered through the kitchen. “Where is your dad anyway, kid?”

“In the shower. Been up there for a little while.”

Negan smiled to himself. “Probably hogging all the hot water, the bastard,” he joked, opening cabinets and checking to see if the oven and refrigerator worked. He felt a rush of excitement when they did. “Holy shit, kid! We can cook fucking _meals_ in here. Real meals, no more fucking stray dog steak.”

Carl entered the kitchen, Judith’s hands tugging at long locks of his hair. “If we stay. Carol’s said before that she was a really good cook.”

Negan nodded in agreement. “If we stay. And I’ll have you know that I’m _also_ something of a chef.” Carl scoffed and Negan looked offended. “What’s that shit for? You don’t fucking believe me?”

“Just don’t seem like the type.”

Negan grinned and leaned back against the counter. “I live to break stereotypes, kid. I’m into all kids of shit I don’t _seem like the type_ for. I promise you, you won’t be complaining that I don’t look like the cooking type when you taste my spaghetti.”

Carl looked like he was about to retort when there was a knock at the door. Negan padded over to answer it, and in the doorway stood a pretty blonde woman holding a plastic basket full of food and various supplies.

“Hi. I’m Jessie, I work in the pantry. Aaron sent me to give you guys some things.” She held the basket out to Negan and he gladly took it.

“Well shit, thanks! It’s been ages since we didn’t have to go out and risk life and limb for shit like this.”

Jessie smiled good-naturedly, and stepped inside when Negan gestured for her to follow him in. “You been settling in alright?”

Negan nodded and set the basket on the table, rooting through until he found- aha! Applesauce, just like Aaron said. He pulled it out and offered the jar to Carl so he could feed Judith, who was getting a bit fussy. “Sure as shit have. This place…goddamn. Can’t seem to find the right fucking words, you know?”

“It’s pretty amazing that they’ve managed to keep it so preserved,” Jessie agreed, her eyes turning to Carl and Judith. “Are these your kids?”

Negan and Carl made twin noises of dissent. “Nah, those are Rick’s kids. Carl and Judith.” Carl gave a noncommittal wave to Jessie and then returned his attention to feeding Judith.

Jessie smiled. “I have a son about your age, Carl. His name's Ron. There are a few other kids here, too. If you’d like to meet them sometime.” At that, Carl looked up, and Negan caught the mixture of interest and apprehension in his eyes.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Jessie smiled. “Great.” She turned back to Negan. “If there’s anything else you all need, don’t be shy,” she gestured to Negan’s head. “I used to cut hair, actually. If you want, I could give you a trim. You and Carl.”

Negan reached back, feeling the way his hair was beginning to get thick and curl up slightly at the base of his neck. “Shit, yeah, that’d be great! You wanna go first, kid? Looks like you need it a hell of a lot more than I do.” He teased.

Carl’s eyes dropped, his face closing off. “No.”

Negan tilted his head. “You sure? A few minutes ago, Judith was using it as a damn jungle gym.”

“I said no,” Carl snapped, his voice tight.

_Okay. Time to drop it._

“Alright, kid. Suit yourself. Just me then, sweetheart.” He settled himself in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, and Jessie set to work on his hair, wetting it first using water from the kitchen sink and then snipping away with a sharp pair of scissors she’d run home quickly to get. Carl had retreated upstairs with Judith, the jar of applesauce tucked away in the fridge. Negan and Jessie chatted conversationally about Alexandria, chunks of dark hair dusting the shoulders of Negan’s white shirt.

“Done. How’s that feel?” Jessie asked.

Negan reached back again feeling. The long hair was gone, no longer thick under his fingers. He felt lighter without it, and it no longer fell in his face when he dragged his fingers through it. “Feels fucking great. Loads better, thanks.” Jessie dusted the hair off his shoulders and he stood. “I’ll let Rick know you came by. God knows he could use a damn haircut himself.”

Jessie tucked the scissors away in her belt. “No problem. Let me know if you need anything. It was nice to meet you.”

Negan waved as she let herself out. “You too, sweetheart.”

When the door closed behind Jessie, Negan made his way up the stairs, hearing the sounds of the shower still running in the hall bathroom. Impatient asshole that he was, he knocked a few times.

“Hey, Rick! Hurry your ass up in there, I want there to be some hot water left when I get in!” Rick didn’t respond, and Negan rolled his eyes. _Shower-hogging bastard._

 Negan found Carl in one of the smaller bedrooms, sitting on the bed while Judith crawled around on the hardwood floor. “I already tried knocking. I don’t know if he didn’t hear me or what,” Carl said.

Negan lingered in the doorway for a moment, unsure, before crossing the threshold and sitting beside him. “You know,” He joked, “long hair may have been the style when the world ended, but I’m pretty fucking sure the other kids aren’t gonna tease you if you get a trim.” Carl stayed silent, eyes on Judith. “Kid. I don’t mean to fucking pry here, but that was a pretty extreme reaction to a haircut down there. You wanna help me out and explain why you’re trying to give Geddy Lee a run for his money? Not that that's not a noble fuckin' goal, hair-wise, but it seems a little impractical. Could get caught, especially with you wearing it down like that."

"Caught?" Carl asked, looking confused. 

"Just something a guy I was running with a while back used to say. He had this girl with him, probably a few years younger than you. Always reminded her to keep her hair short and in pigtails so the dead couldn't grab onto it as easy."

"Plenty of people have long hair. I'm fine."

Negan conceded that. "Alright. But you still haven't explained why you acted like I was offering to have your arm cut off instead of your hair."

Carl was quiet for a long minute, and Negan was about to just drop it, but then the kid spoke, his voice small. “My mom used to cut my hair.”

Negan felt his heart ache a little for the kid beside him, sounding so young and avoiding his eyes like he was embarrassed to be admitting such a thing. Negan wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just placed a hand on Carl’s shoulder, squeezing. They sat there like that for a little while, watching Judith roll over and scoot across the floor and listening to the sound of the shower from down the hall.

“Fuck, you don’t need a fucking haircut anyway,” Negan said finally. “The Geddy Lee look’s a perfectly fucking fine one.”

* * *

Rick's whole range of vision had narrowed down to the swirl of sudsy water down the drain. He couldn’t feel the spray of the shower anymore, couldn’t feel the tile under his knees as he hunched on the floor, couldn’t feel the dig of his fingernails into his flesh. All he could feel was his skin, tight and itchy and unbearably filthy. he thought of- of _him_ \- still on his skin made Rick feel dizzy and sick.

_Get it off- have to get it off…_

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Rick jolted, his shoulder hitting the wall of the shower.

“Rick, you in there? Fuck, man, hurry your ass up, I want a shower! Carl told me there’s hot water but you’ve been in there so damn long that I’m thinking that’s probably not true anymore.”

Negan’s words confused him. He’d just gotten in. Negan should still be with Deanna-

“Rick! Hey, Carl’s getting kinda worried out here. A woman came by that cuts hair real nice if you wanna get rid of those Rapunzel locks you got goin’ on.”

Why would Carl be worried? He’d just gotten in.

“Rick…shit, I’m coming in, okay? You’re freaking me out thinking you cracked your head on the sink or something. Yell if you want me to stay the fuck out, alright? Just tell me you’re okay and I’ll fuck off.”

Rick couldn’t force the words out. He went back to scrubbing violently at his skin.

* * *

Negan opened the bathroom door and was immediately hit in the face by a room full of steam.

_How much fucking hot water did Rick use?_

The glass stall of the shower was mostly steamed over, but Negan couldn’t make out Rick inside. Panic twisted in his gut. “Rick? You alright? I can’t fucking see you. Just tell me you’re alright. Say something, okay?”

Nothing.

Fuck it. If Rick was alright, he could yell at him all he wanted for invading his privacy. He got that it had been a while since the other man had gotten to bathe, but a two hour shower was a bit much. A two hour shower in which he didn’t respond the last three times Carl and Negan had knocked on the door was downright worrisome.

Negan pulled the stall door open, and his breath caught in his chest.

Rick was curled into himself, hunched over on the shower floor with a nearly-empty bottle of soap beside him. His skin was tinged a bright red, and it wasn’t just from the water temperature, because that was now running cold as it poured over Rick’s bare back. Rick barely seemed to register his presence, instead choosing to continue scrubbing at his already raw flesh. There were patches of it, on his legs in particular, Negan noticed, where the skin had been rubbed away completely and was now trickling a faint but steady stream of blood.

_What the fuck?_

Negan crouched down, not minding the water soaking through the knees of his jeans. “Rick?” He kept his voice gentle, “Rick, are you okay?” When Rick still didn’t look up at him, Negan reached out a tentative hand, letting it hover over the man’s bowed head. “Rick. You’re freaking me the fuck out. I’m gonna touch you, is that alright?” When Rick didn’t respond, Negan hesitantly let his hand drop to rest atop Rick’s wet hair.

The smaller man jerked back immediately, his eyes snapping up to Negan’s. They were wet from more than the bathwater, and rimmed a morose shade of red. He looked terrified, nearly feral in his fear, and Negan threw his hands up.

“Shit! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You were just- Carl and I have been trying to ask if you’re okay for the past two hours and we were getting worried. Rick’s expression softened into confusion at that, and the fear melted into a shaky confusion that was echoed in the way his body was trembling.

“T-two hours?” He asked.

Negan nodded. “Yeah. Carl and I knocked three times before this. What’s…what’s going on, Rick?” He nodded to Rick's reddened skin, and Rick curled further into himself, trying to shield his body from Negan. "Rick, I'm not- you know I'm not gonna hurt you. But I'm a little concerned that you're gonna hurt yourself if you keep going like that."

Rick looked down at himself as if for the first time, and when he looked back up at Negan, he looked lost. “I- I don’t remember doing this. I was just- just trying to get it _off_ -” his voice broke and Negan’s heart went with it.

“Get the dirt off? Well, I’m pretty damn sure you got it all, darlin’. You’re rubbed fuckin’ raw.”

“N-not the dirt,” Rick whispered, his head dipping low again. Negan cocked his head.

“What, then?”

“I had to get- to get it off. Get _him_ off.” The words were violent, spat onto the wet tile like poison sucked from a wound. It took Negan a second, but then-

_He hasn’t bathed since Terminus- since Gareth-_

Negan’s chest tightened painfully, and he reached out to the shaking man again. “Oh, _Rick_ …fuck, darlin’…” He breathed. Rick was shaking violently now, goosebumps breaking out over his skin. Negan pushed himself to his feet, his jeans soaked from the knees down, and moved to shut off the frigid water. “I’m gonna turn this off, okay?” Rick nodded his assent and Negan turned the shower off. He turned and grabbed a towel from where it hung on the wall and reached out to Rick again. “C’mere, Rick. You need to dry off. You’re shaking.” When Rick didn’t move, Negan crawled into the shower beside him. He gingerly wrapped the towel around Rick, gauging his reaction. The smaller man didn’t seem scared anymore, the manic scrubbing of his skin having passed. Now…now he just seemed deeply troubled, his broken expression making Negan ache for him. “Do you want me to go so you can dry off? I can go.” Negan offered, but Rick surprised him by catching his arm, icy fingers making him suck in a breath.

“No. No, I don’t…” Rick visibly swallowed. “Don’t go. Not yet. I don’t…I can’t be alone in here.”

The heavy words stuck to Negan, thick with sorrow and hurt. “Okay. Alright. I’m here. Can I…can I dry you off, then? If you’re not gonna do it? You need to warm up. The cold’s not doing you any favors.”

Rick dipped his head, nodding his assent, and Negan placed careful hands on the towel, dragging it over Rick’s skin to dry him off and then rubbing more firmly to get him warm again. He felt Rick’s fingers knot in the damp fabric of his shirt, felt his head tip to the side and rest against Negan’s chest as he toweled him dry. He could feel the tension in Rick’s shoulders begin to melt away, rolling off of him like water down the drain.

“I’m sorry I worried you and Carl,” Rick murmured softly, “Didn’t realize…thought I’d just gotten in. Lost track of time.”

“It’s alright. It’s alright. I’m sorry I came in. I mean, I’m _not_ , because you really needed to be snapped the fuck out of whatever you were doing before you hurt yourself, but I’m sorry if…if you’re uncomfortable or anything.”

“It’s okay,” He mumbled, but Negan felt Rick shift against him, drawing his legs up further to better cover himself.

“Are you…are you alright now? Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Rick answered, “I just…I just needed to get it all off.”

Negan nodded. “Yeah. I think you took care of it, though. You’re one squeaky-fucking-clean bastard now, Rick.” He toweled Rick’s damp hair dry as he could get it, smiling to himself when the damp locks fell into Rick’s face. He pushed them back gently, raking his fingers through them and massaging Rick’s scalp lightly, drawing a soft, contented hum out of the smaller man. He handed Rick the towel. “I, uh. I’ll let you handle the rest, alright? You good to go?”

Rick nodded, rising on his knees and accepting Negan’s offer of a hand to help him up. He clutched the towel in front of him, has face flushing faintly. “I’m good. Thank you, Negan.”

Negan forced himself to keep his eyes on Rick’s face. “No problem, darlin’.”

* * *

Rick joined Negan and Carl downstairs a few minutes later, and Negan nearly did a double take at the sight of him.

“You, uh…you shaved,” Negan blinked at the clean-shaven man before him. His face was smooth and bare, damp hair curling at his neck. He was dressed in clean clothes, a white shirt and jeans. He looked…softer like this, his face less intense without the thick cover of the beard. Rick rubbed at his chin.

“Yeah. I, uh. Looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself. Before and after.” Negan noticed a smudge of shaving cream on his jawline and moved forward, hand outstretched.

“You’ve still got some shaving cream,” He said, and Rick tilted his head to the side, letting Negan wipe it away with his thumb. Negan let his fingers linger on the smooth skin for a moment before he pulled his hand away. “It’s a, uh…It’s a good look on you. I mean, the man beard was badass, don’t get me wrong, but you looked like a damn wildman. Probably would have scared some of the people here.”

Rick chuckled, and Negan was glad to see the other man seemed to be in better spirits. Carol came in then, giving the two of them a suspicious once-over when she saw how close they were standing. Negan took a hasty step back.

“They’re splitting us up. The houses are right next door to each other, but…” She frowned. “I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. I don’t either. And without our weapons. We’re all sleeping in the same house tonight.”

* * *

Rick’s living room was crowded with bodies that night, and when Deanna had dropped by to check on them, she’d seemed almost amused that they’d chosen to pack themselves into one house.

After Carl and Judith were fast asleep, Rick sequestered himself in a corner, eyes wide and watchful. Negan took a seat beside him, bumping his shoulder. “Not sleepin’ tonight, I assume?”

Rick shook his head. “How the hell am I supposed to sleep? No weapons, surrounded by God only knows how many people we don’t know…” He sighed, knotting his fingers together, “I don’t know if I’m ever gonna feel okay here. Even if we stay even everything’s fine…I don’t know if I’ll ever stop lookin’ over my shoulder.”

Negan caught Rick’s restless fingers between his own, squeezing in a way that he hoped was soothing. “Maybe that’s smart,” He replied. “But for what it’s fucking worth, Rick, I think you’ll get better. I know you will. It’s gonna take some time, and it won’t be all at once, but you’ll get to that point one day where the looking over your shoulder isn’t because you’re scared. It’s okay to be scared, though. Fuck, I get it. I’ve been itching since I had to give up Lucille. But you’re gonna be okay. This whole group’s gonna be okay.”

Negan watched as Rick twined their fingers together, his hands still restless even against Negan’s own. “Last night, you said…you said that you’d die before you’d let…before you’d let somethin’ like Terminus happen to me again,” Rick whispered. “Did you mean that?”

“I did,” Negan confirmed, almost shyly.

“Why?”

“Because that shit makes me fucking sick,” Negan growled, voice low. “There’s people that deserve to get roughed up, people that deserve to die. There’s nobody that deserves that. There’s no fucking justification for it. None. And I…I don’t know, Rick. Chalk it up to a lack of self-preservation, chalk it up to me really fuckin’ hating that shit, chalk it up to me wantin’ to protect the first person I’ve let myself get close to in a long time. But I’m not about to let that happen to you again.”

“That’s…that’s a whole lot to put on the line for someone you barely know,” Rick breathed.

Negan turned to look Rick in the eye. “I know you, Rick.” His words hung heavy in the air between them, lingering between their lips. Rick swallowed roughly, and Negan’s eyes were drawn to the curve of his throat.

“Yeah,” Rick murmured, “I guess you do.”

* * *

Rick didn’t sleep that night, and Negan could tell as soon as he caught sight of him the next morning, his eyes bloodshot and heavy-lidded, rimmed with dark circles. The wearied look on his face made Negan want to throw a pillow at him and tell him to go upstairs and try to catch a few hours of rest on an actual mattress, but he settled for a gentle, comforting hand on Rick’s back as the smaller man yawned and leaned against the kitchen counter.

Carol and Negan rooted through the basket of supplies Jessie had brought over in search of something they could make for breakfast.

“There’s canned fruit. Powdered eggs,” Carol said, pulling items out and setting them on the countertop. “I’ll have to see what else we can get from the pantry later. A few more ingredients, and we could be having pancakes in the mornings.”

Together, they scrambled up some eggs, which weren’t half bad with the addition of some seasoning. Once everyone had been served, Negan sat beside Rick, who was scarfing down his eggs like they were threatening to crawl off his plate.

“Not doing the whole self-sacrificing give-your-food-to-the-kids bullshit anymore? Good. I was fucking worried about you.”

“Don’t have to now that we got plenty to eat,” Rick mumbled around a mouthful of egg. Negan grinned.

Deanna stopped by as everyone was finishing up breakfast.

“Everyone sleep alright? Settling in?” She asked, and was met with collective nods and murmurs of approval. “Good. That’s good to hear. I mentioned yesterday that I would be giving all of you jobs." Negan recalled her mentioning something about that during his interview yesterday, amid the questions about how he'd ended up with Rick and his group. "A few of you already got your assignments, but there were a couple I hadn’t quite placed yet. I’ve got them now, though, if you’d like to hear them.”

They nodded, and Negan sat back in his chair, wondering where he’d be assigned.

“Daryl, you’ll be going out recruiting with Aaron.” Daryl’s reaction to the news was minimal, a jerk of his shaggy head and a grunt to indicate that he’d heard. Deanna continued. “Negan, Abraham, and Sasha will be on construction.” Negan’s eyes met Abraham’s across the room, and he repressed a groan. He and Red hadn’t exactly been on the friendliest of terms, even after the two of them working together to get Rick fixed up when he’d been shot. During the weeks they'd been driving, they'd avoided being in the same car for too long, as it usually ended with them sniping at each other. Negan supposed it was an issue of being too similar, if he was being honest with himself. Take two vulgar, loudmouthed, headstrong fuckers and try to make them work together, you were bound to get some tension.

“Rick and Michonne. I want you two to be out new constables.” Rick and Michonne looked up at Deanna from their seats at the table with identical looks of surprise, and the woman chuckled. “Don’t look so shocked. You were both people of the law before this, from what you told me. You both care very deeply for the safety of your people. And from now on, the people here, _all of them_ , are your people. You and your group are a part of our community now. In all ways. As equals. I see it that way, at least. I hope you’ll come to feel the same way soon.”

* * *

Rick spent the day at home with Carl and Judith, the others having scattered after breakfast to take on their job assignments. Deanna, sensing both Rick and Michonne’s confusion about what exactly they were meant to do as the constables of Alexandria, had stuck around for a while to explain that they would be in charge of guarding the community, keeping it safe, patrolling the walls and looking after the citizens.

Rick still felt that that was a bit of a vague job description, but he hadn’t argued. Any job that let him keep a watchful eye on the people and activities within the walls was a good job by him.

Carl wandered off around mid-afternoon, telling Rick that he wanted to go meet the other kids that lived in Alexandria.

“The woman who cut Negan’s hair said she had a son about my age named Ron. And that there were others, too.”

Rick was sorely tempted to tell Carl to stay here in the house, where he could keep an eye on him, but he swallowed that impulse down and nodded his approval, watching from the porch as Carl headed down the street.

“He’ll be fine.” Michonne’s voice sounded from beside him, and she leaned against the railing, watching him watch Carl’s retreating form. “He will. It’s good that you’re letting him go. I was a little worried you were going to keep us all on lockdown.” He shot her a terse look and she shook her head. “I’m not mocking you, Rick. I get it. You’ve got a lot of reasons not to trust people. Not to trust this place. But I’m telling you…I have a good feeling. I did before we got here, and now, seeing all of this…I still do. I really think we can make a life here.”

Rick smiled in spite of himself. “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause she made you a constable,” he teased, and she laughed.

“It’s been a long time since I heard you joke like that.”

Rick frowned. “I’m not- I…joke. Sometimes.”

A devilish smile slid onto her lips. “Sometimes. Though I’ve noticed it’s usually with Negan.”

Rick huffed out a breath that he hoped sounded more annoyed than embarrassed. “Yeah, well. It’s easy to joke with someone who tries to make a damn joke out of everything.”

Michonne smiled and shrugged. “Fair enough. Though…as much as he makes light of things, he seems to take you pretty seriously.”

Rick suddenly and inexplicably found it hard to look Michonne in the eye. His gaze dropped to the green of the front lawn. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It just means that a guy like that- loud, used to being out on his own, used to calling the shots…for him to follow your lead the way he has been, he must like you a whole lot.”

“We get on better than I thought we would,” Rick conceded. He could feel Michonne’s eyes on him, see her watching him out of the corner of his eye. He knew that if he turned to face her, that same mischievous, I-know-too much look would be dancing across her face.

She hummed, turning away to loo out over the street with him. “Good. It seems like he’s good for you.”

Rick wasn’t sure what compelled him to answer. “He is.”


	12. Chapter 12

It took Rick another two nights until he was comfortable letting everyone split off into separate houses. Or, rather, it took two nights of everyone complaining that they didn’t want to sleep on the floor when they had access to perfectly good beds. Plus some gentle encouragement from Negan and Michonne, who were more understanding than the others.

“Rick,” Michonne implored to him on their third day there, watching as Rick arranged the living room for a fourth night of shared sleeping. “It’s been three days. Nothing’s happened. We’re _safe_ here. It’s not like everyone’s really going to be split up, the houses are all either across from or next to each other. We’re all still going to be right here, and we won’t be living in them alone. You need to let people leave. They're getting restless.”

Rick frowned and bit his lip, and Negan gave it a shot. “Rick, listen to her. You really think she’d be saying any of this if she thought we were in danger? Listen to the damn constable.” Negan joked, trying to lighten Rick’s heavy mood.

“It’s safer if we’re close,” Rick muttered. “And you just wanna sleep in your own bed.”

“Damn right I do.”

Michonne crossed the room and sat on the couch beside Rick, hand on his shoulder. Negan felt a swell of relief and little bit of pride that Rick didn’t flinch away. He was getting better, not jumping anymore when people from their group brushed against him or touched him. He would still occasionally look uneasy, and he avoided getting too close in proximity to anyone outside of their group, but that was to be expected. Small steps forward.

“Rick, you know I respect the decisions you make as a leader. And I understand that letting go of control, even a little bit, is a big deal for you. But you need to. If you can’t trust the people here, trust that we know how to defend ourselves.”

Rick frowned at the sheet clutched in his hands. “I know we can. But they have our weapons. We’re at risk already, and if we start splitting up our chances will be even worse.” He stood up, spreading the sheet out on the floor, and headed into the kitchen. Michonne sighed and jerked her head at Negan, indicating she wanted him to try to talk some sense into Rick.

Negan obeyed the suggestion, padding barefoot into the kitchen after Rick and standing beside him where he stood at the counter. Rick didn’t acknowledge him, just started rifling through the cabinets, not seeming to look for anything in particular. Negan sensed that Rick just wanted to look busy so they’d stop questioning him.

“Rick, I really think you need to let people move into the houses,” He said gently, sliding a hand onto his shoulder.

“A lot could go wrong.”

“A lot could go wrong even if we’re all together, Rick. You know that. If these people wanted us dead, they would have killed us by now.” Rick avoided his eyes, and Negan reached forward, gently cupping the side of Rick’s face in his hand and tilting it up to face him. Rick’s eyes went wide at the gesture- there was no fear there, though, just breathless surprise at the intimacy of it. “Darlin’, it’s gonna be alright. It _is_. Give it a night. One fucking night. You’ll see. And think about it like this: you’ll have a whole damn room to yourself. I know you’ve been getting better, but I still see how fucking nervous it makes you being crowded into one room with so many people.”

“This is about- about safety in numbers, Negan-”

“And we will _still_ be safe, darlin’. Nobody’s gonna be living alone. You can barricade the goddamned doors if you like, booby trap the whole place. But people are gettin’ real sick of sleeping on the fucking floor. You know I’m not about to let my damn guard down in this place, and I’m not asking you to, either. I’m just asking you to let everybody else give it a shot.”

Rick sighed, but Negan could see that he was considering it. “One night. And if anything- _anything_ happens-”

“Everyone will be camping out on your goddamned floor once again, Rick. I fucking promise.”

That seemed to sate Rick. He took a deep breath and stepped into the living room, regarding Michonne. “We can try splitting off into the houses. Lock the doors, check all the windows. If you see anything in the house you can used as a weapon, keep it close by.”

She beamed at him, rising off the couch. “Great! That’s really great to hear, Rick. I’ll go let the others know.”

With that, she took her leave, and Rick started cleaning up the scattered pillows and extra blankets in the living room. Negan stooped down to help him, folding spare sheets, when Rick spoke up again.

“So. Where are you going to stay?”

Negan swallowed down the taste of disappointment- he’d really hoped that Rick would ask him to stay in the extra room in his house. “I, uh. I haven’t really thought about it. Might ask Glenn and Maggie if I can take their spare room, offer to play bouncer to keep Beth and Noah off of each other or something.”

“I think Maggie already offered the room to Gabriel, actually,” Rick replied.

“Oh. Fuck. Uh. I don’t know, then. Guess I’ll just see if anyone has a spare. Hope I don’t end up with Red and Rosita and the mullet, ol’ Abe and I aren’t the best of pals. Plus, when we were all riding together, Red and his girl got up to a lot of _loud_ freaky-deaky shit, and I’m pretty sure Eugene was watchin’ them half the time. I really don’t want to be up in the middle of that again. We have four houses, right? Maybe Carol will let me stay with her or something.”

“You could stay here. If you wanted,” Rick offered, his voice almost shy. Negan’s heart leapt in his chest, and he couldn’t hold back the delighted smile that slid across his face.

“You fucking mean it, Rick?”

Rick tossed the last of the pillows into the pile beside the couch. “Yeah. I mean…we’ve got a spare room. And from what I’ve heard, everyone else has mostly worked it out among themselves who’s going where. I mean, if you don’t want to stay here, you don’t have to, I’m sure Carol would let you-” Negan looked up to see a pink flush across Rick’s cheeks, and he stood, cupping Rick’s face in his hand again. It was still so jarring to see him clean-shaven like this, even if there was a hint of stubble on his jaw, prickling Negan’s palm. It looked good on him, Negan thought. Beard or no beard, Rick was a damn good looking man.

“Of course I want to stay here, darlin’. Just wasn’t sure if you’d have me. Didn’t want to fucking impose if you wanted the place to yourself and the rugrats.”

“I want you here,” Rick said with devastating simplicity, and Negan had to bite his lip, physically hold himself back from leaning forward and closing the gap between them.

_He just said he wanted you here, dumbass. Don’t make him change his damn mind._

“Then I’m all yours.”

* * *

Carl accepted Negan’s continued presence in their house without protest. He watched as Negan unloaded the backpack of his belongings into the dresser drawers of the fourth bedroom, Judith gurgling and bouncing on his hip.

“My dad asked you to stay, then?” Carl wandered inside hesitantly, as if expecting to be told to fuck off. Negan didn’t mind him and Judith being there, though. In fact, he liked that Carl was actually showing some kind of interest. He’d been worried that the kid would be actively avoiding him after opening up to him the other day about his mom- teenagers were funny like that- but if anything, Carl seemed a little more relaxed around him.

“He did. Surprised the shit outta me. I thought for sure he was gonna send me packin’ the first chance he got. Get me and my loud mouth out of his house and away from you two before Judith started picking up on it. I can just imagine the sour-ass look on his face if she started talking and he heard her swearing like me.”

“He wouldn’t send you away. He likes you too much.”

Negan blinked and turned where he stood, squinting at Carl and trying to figure out if the kid meant that Rick liked him in anything more than in the friendly sense. “What makes you say that?”

“You two are always around each other. And he seems less tense when he’s with you,” Carl observed, sitting on the foot of Negan’s bed. Judith was pulling at his long hair again, but he didn’t seem to mind. “You’re obnoxious, but he still keeps you around. He even laughs at the dumb stuff you say sometimes.”

“I’ve always been told that my sense of humor was my best quality. Well, that and my devilish good looks.”

Carl rolled his eyes. “You like him, too.”

Negan shoved the last of his clothes into a drawer and closed it. He didn’t have much in the way of possessions. The only other thing he had in the backpack was a single hardback book, which was sitting in the middle of the bed. “What’s not to fucking like? Your dad’s a stand-up guy.”

“You like him a _lot_ ,” Carl intoned, the last word heavy with implications. Negan frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Don’t know what you mean by that.”

Carl scooped Judith up, holding her to his chest. “I think you do,” He replied as he walked out. Negan stared down at his feet, wondering just how obvious it was how he felt about Rick. Had Rick caught on at all? He must not have, there was no way he’d have asked Negan to stay if he had…

“Hey, Negan? You wanna come with me? I want to talk to you about something.” Rick’s voice pulled Negan out of his thoughts, and Negan nodded.

“Sure thing, Rick.”

* * *

As it turned out, Rick didn’t want to just talk to Negan. He brought Carol and Daryl along, too, leading them outside the walls under the guise of shooting practice. They walked for a while, the three of them exchanging equally confused glances, before they came upon a small, decrepit house in the middle of the woods. Rick immediately started digging through a pile of decrepit furniture and trash out front, pulling the lid off of a dingy blender. When he opened it and saw nothing inside, he seemed distraught.

“Rick, uh. No fucking offence, but what the hell are we doing?” Negan asked.

“I stashed a gun in here,” Rick muttered, dropping the blender back into the pile with a frown. “When I walked off the day we got here. Just in case, you know? It’s gone.”

“A straggler probably found it,” Carol said, “Someone out on their own.”

“Probably,” Rick nudged at the blender with a booted foot, “But that’s not really what I’m worried about. Deanna doesn’t want us armed within the walls. I do. And I brought you three out here because I know you’re not real happy about the lack of weapons, either.”

They nodded, and Rick seemed satisfied. “Good. Because I want us to break into the armory. Take a few guns- small ones, nothing they’ll notice missing.”

“How?” Daryl asked, “It’s locked up at night, and we can’t just walk out carryin’ weapons durin’ the day.”

“We could sneak in. There’s a window, I can leave the latch open,” Carol supplied.

“What if someone fucking shuts it?” Negan asked.

“Wait a couple days, leave it open again,” Carol replied.

“We need to do it sooner rather than later," Rick said, "Right now, they’re not watching us, not looking out for meetings like this. We may need the guns, we may not. But I’d rather have them. If anything goes south- we need to be able to take this place.”

Negan couldn’t help but grin at that. Rick’s understandable paranoia never leant itself to weakness, and he admired that. He never chose to hide in his fear- he fucking steeled himself and got ready to fight. “Fuck yeah.”

“Listen, the others- we want them to try. They have faith in this place. So we keep it quiet. Just us.” Rick looked around at them, waiting for their agreement, and he got it with solemn, curt nods. “Good. Carol leaves the latch open, we pick our moment.”

They headed back at that, and Negan walked in tandem with Rick, shortening his long strides to match the smaller man's. “Why didn’t you bring Michonne?”

Rick looked conflicted at that. “I thought about it. I did. But she really wants to believe in this place. She needs to. I was going to ask her, but I thought she might try to talk me out of it.”

“She may want to believe in this place, but she’s smart enough to realize that there’s a chance it may not work out. I think she would have fucking backed you up.”

Rick sighed. “The less people that know about this, the better. If things start taking a bad turn, I’ll tell her.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a walker stumbling into their path lurching unsteadily toward them. Carol raised her gun and hit it with multiple shots to the chest before ending it with a shot to the head. “We said we were going out shooting,” She explained, “Can’t come back with a full magazine.”

Daryl squinted down at the corpse, nudging its head aside with his boot. “The hell is that on its forehead?”

The four of them gathered around, taking a look. A “W” was carved there, set deep into the rotting flesh. Negan frowned down at it before they moved on.

_Fucking weird._

* * *

On their way back in, Deanna caught up with them, pulling Rick and Michonne aside to ask them to drop by her house in a bit.

“Go home first, though,” She said, “I left you each something I want you to have.”

Rick found Deanna’s gift as soon as he’d gotten to the house. He couldn’t help but stare at it as he laid it out on his bed: A police uniform, the full jacket and tie, complete with patches. Instantly, he flashed back to his days as a sheriff, to the badge and khaki shirt, to the hat that Carl now constantly donned.

_Almost like nothing’s changed, right?_

Rick was startled that the thought came out of his own head. _Of course things have changed_ , He scolded himself as he pulled the uniform on, _don’t let this place make you think otherwise, not for a second. You may be behind a wall, but everything beyond that is still the same. Everything in here is still the same, it’s just hidden. Don’t drop your guard._

He walked downstairs, his gaze meeting Negan’s as he descended. The taller man’s eyes widened a bit, and Rick caught how his gaze dragged up and down his body before snapping back up to his face. “Goddamn, Rick,” he whistled appreciatively, “Don’t _you_ look good in uniform.”

Rick felt the heat creep over his cheeks and up his neck under the collar of his jacket. “I, uh. Michonne and I are meeting with Deanna and then I’m gonna start doing…whatever it is I’m gonna be doing around here, I guess. I’ll see you later.”

Negan nodded. “I was just about to head out to construction duty myself. Have fun, constable.”

Rick smiled to himself. “You, too. Don’t pick any fights with Abraham. ”

“No fucking promises,” Negan muttered, and Rick chuckled on his way out the door.

Michonne was waiting for him across the street, already in uniform as well. “I feel pretty official in this,” she mused, and Rick smiled.

“Yeah. Feels strange. Like we’re dressing up or somethin’.”

“It suits you, though,” She observed as they headed for Deanna’s house, “Sheriff Grimes, back in uniform.”

“Negan said the same thing. That it suited me. Or- well, he said somethin’ like that.” Rick silently prayed that Michonne didn’t notice the way his face was growing warm.

“I bet he did.” Michonne sounded like she was trying not to laugh.

* * *

When they got to Deanna’s house, they were surprised to find Maggie waiting there for them as well. She and Deanna were sitting at the kitchen table, and Deanna smiled up at them as they walked in. Michonne took a seat across from Maggie while Rick hovered next to her.

“I’m glad you two are here. And the uniforms fit! You look nice and official now,” She gave them both approving nods. “I’m sure you’re both wondering what exactly you’ll be doing as constables. Rick, I’m sure you remember the old mantra from your days on the force: you protect and serve. Patrol, watch the wall, protect the kids. If there’s a conflict, solve it. People will listen to you.”

“Because we’re wearing windbreakers?” Michonne deadpanned.

“Because they _believe_ in this. Because I’m telling them to. A police officer used to live here, so we had these uniforms. I wanted to make it official. So it’s official. There’s going to be a government here one day. And that’s why Maggie’s here, too,” Deanna said, nodding to her. “I see leadership qualities in her, and I want to help nurture that. I won’t be around forever, and I need someone ready to take up the mantle, help run the place, especially if it keeps growing like this. And I _want_ it to keep growing. There’s going to be a police force, and that’s why I want you two to start it. I see a vibrant community here, with industry, commerce. _Civilization_. Real lives.”

Rick didn’t bother to reign in the disbelief in his expression, and Deanna called him out on it. “What? You think it sounds like pie in the sky?”

“No,” Maggie suddenly said, her face resolute.

“No,” Michonne echoed. Rick couldn’t blame her. That’s what she’d wanted all this time, after all. That’s what she’d been saying: a real life.

The three women looked at him expectantly, awaiting his answer. He shifted on his feet. He wasn’t sure what he thought, honestly. The idea of rebuilding society after so long- after everything he’d seen and done- it seemed like an insurmountable task. But looking at them now, hearing what Deanna had to say, seeing that Michonne and Maggie wanted to work to create that world…he wanted it.

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly, “I really don’t. But I want to try.”

Deanna met his eyes, nodding approvingly. “That’s good. That’s something. You’ll get there, Rick. You’ll come to believe in this place.”

Rick decided not to argue that. “Alright. Can we talk security? There were a couple things I’ve noticed that I want to get fixed.”

Deanna nodded and gestured outside, “Of course.”

They made their way outside and the four of them walked the walls, Deanna listening intently to Rick's observations. Rick felt fractionally more at ease now that he had a sounding board for the security concerns he’d had. He pointed them out as they walked- how someone could scale the fence, how the lack of a proper lookout opened them up to threats.

And Deanna nodded along in agreement, said they’d make alterations to the wall so that it couldn’t easily be scaled, agreed to a constant patrol of the border.

“Sasha’s a good shot with a rifle, our best sniper. She could man the clocktower, be on lookout.” Michonne offered.

“We’ll take shifts,” Deanna agreed, “My son, Spencer, he can swap out with her. And anyone else who can do it. We’ve been lucky so far, and we haven’t needed a lookout, but I can see why you would feel more secure in having one. Better to have it and not need it, right? This is good, Rick. You’re already protecting this place.”

“I know you don’t want people being armed within the walls-” Rick began and Deanna cut him off.

“I don’t. And if we make the changes you’re suggesting, we won’t need to be, am I right?”

Rick suppressed a frustrated sigh, “It’s a start.”

Deanna nodded, “Good. Now, one last thing. I’m hosting a gathering at my house tonight. A welcome, for all of you. I’d like you all to be there so you can meet the community. _Your_ community.”

Rick’s stomach churned at the thought of being packed into a house with a bunch of other people- especially people he didn’t know or trust, but he wasn’t sure how to say no.

_That’s probably not an option._

“We’ll be there,” Maggie said, “All of us.”

* * *

After Rick had make all of his concerns known, he and Michonne started in on their patrols. Carol caught up to Rick as he was walking though the streets and matched his stride, an easy smile on her face. “You heard about the party tonight?”

“Everyone’s going to be there,” Rick replied, nodding.

“Good. So tonight, then? I already flipped the latch on the window earlier while I was grabbing some things for a casserole.”

“Yeah. I’ll slip out after a while-”

“People will notice you’re gone. The new constable, Carl’s dad, leader of the new group? People will catch on if you slip out.”

Rick suppressed a sigh. “Who, then?”

“I’ll go,” Carol said, determined, “The best thing about this place is that I get to be invisible again.”

* * *

Negan was already home when Rick got back to the house after his patrol- he could hear him singing loud and off-key over the sound of the shower down the hallway. Rick climbed the stairs and pawed through the scant contents of his bedroom closet, which contained a few nice button-up shirts that must have been from the previous owner. He chose one for himself and grabbed another for Negan, waiting until the shower had been shut off for a few minutes to cross the hallway and knock on Negan’s bedroom door. Negan answered it with wet, rumpled hair and a towel around his waist. Rick swallowed hard and tried not to question why he was having to force himself to look Negan in the eye.

“There’s a…gathering tonight.” Rick mumbled awkwardly, hovering in Negan’s doorway. He clutched the shirt in his hand. “At Deanna’s. I don’t think it’s optional.”

“A _gathering_?”

“Like a party, I guess. She wants everyone to meet us.” It felt like a problem from another life, not wanting to go to a neighborhood get-together.

“What’s that?” Negan asked, nodding to the shirt. Rick held it out to him.

“There were some dress shirts in one of the closets upstairs. Thought it would make a better impression than bloodstained t-shirts.”

Negan chuckled and took it, looking it over. He seemed to approve of it, because he pulled it on over his bare chest, fingers working the buttons. Rick didn’t realize he was watching him until Negan’s eyes found his again and he felt his face grow warm.

“I, uh. I’ll go get dressed,” Rick mumbled, closing Negan’s door behind him.

A short while later, they met in the living room, Carl and Judith also donning clean clothes.

“You look good in anything, don’t you?” Negan commented, his eyes roaming over Rick’s crisp white shirt. Just like that morning with the comment on his uniform, Rick wasn’t sure what to say, and definitely didn’t know what to do with the surge of pleased warmth that spread through him at the compliment.

“You ready to go?” He asked instead, taking Judith when Carl held her out to him. Negan nodded.

“As I’ll fucking ever be.”

* * *

The party was an uncomfortable affair, to say the very least. Deanna was doing her best to make everyone feel at home there- greeting them all, directing them to food and drinks- but there was an air of awkwardness surrounding everyone from their group. Abraham only seemed to enjoy himself once he found the beer, and Sasha was looking woefully uncomfortable surrounded by the easy chatter. Tara and Rosita huddled close together on the fringes, happily offering to take Judith off Rick’s hands- Rick suspected this was so that they could look busy. Rick took some comfort in knowing that his reluctance to be here was a shared sentiment, though. Negan, thankfully, hovered close by, his fingers occasionally brushing Rick’s as if to say _, it’s okay, I’m still here._

Deanna introduced them to her husband, Reg- an affable man, bespectacled and smiling warmly at Rick even after his offered handshake was rejected. “You’re quite a remarkable man, Rick,” he said, retracting his hand without so much as a curious look. “I watched the tapes. All of them. The things those people said about you…” He nodded approvingly. “We’re lucky to have you here.”

Rick rubbed a hand over his face, still not used to the feeling of more skin than hair there. “You built the wall, right? Sounds like they’re pretty lucky to have you, too.”

“It’s pretty damn impressive,” Reg admitted, “But…it’s a wall. Fifteen lives? In this world? I think you have me beat.”

Rick smiled a little at that, his shoulders relaxing a bit. Reg seemed genuine enough, unthreatening. He held a glass out to Rick. “Have a drink,” he offered.

Rick leaned away, shaking his head. “I’m good.”

“You don’t have to be,” Reg said kindly, and Rick debated, his eyes flicking from the glass to Reg’s face. He felt Negan come up beside him, his presence warm even without them touching. Rick’s face softened and he accepted the glass. “Yeah. Alright.”

* * *

A little while into the party, and Rick was feeling a bit better- whether that was because of the two glasses of bourbon in his system or the fact that Carol had slipped out not long ago to procure the guns as they’d planned, Rick wasn’t sure. Carl was off to the side, talking with a couple kids his own age. Smiling, laughing. It made Rick feel more at ease, knowing that Carl was adjusting and making friends.

Negan was beside him, as he had been most of the night, sipping a beer and leaning comfortingly into his shoulder. “Hey, Rick. Over there-” Negan gestured with his drink to a blonde woman across the room, “That’s the woman who cuts hair. Jessie, I think. You should ask her for a cut.”

“You sayin’ my hair’s too long?” Rick teased, shoving his shoulder into Negan’s, and Negan laughed.

“I don’t mind,” He reached over with his free hand and wound a hand into the curls at the nape of Rick’s neck, and Rick’s breath left him. “Just sayin’. It’s real long. Thought it might be fucking bothering you. But I like it. Looks damn good.” His fingers played with the curls for a moment, and Rick found that he couldn’t look away from the warm hazel eyes holding his own. Rick could smell the sweet, heady smell of alcohol lingering on Negan’s breath, the air between them growing thick.

“I, ah. Guess I’ll leave it alone, then,” Rick breathed. Someone laughed suddenly from across the room, and they both seemed to come back to themselves, heat flooding Rick’s face. “Rather not have anyone I don’t know touching me anyway,” he added, dropping his gaze to his mostly-empty glass.

Negan dropped his hand and chugged the rest of his beer quickly. The woman- Jessie- waved at Negan from across the room, and Negan waved back, taking Rick’s hand. “C’mon, constable. You oughta be fucking meetin’ people, anyway. It’s her kid Carl’s been hanging around with.”

Rick let Negan half-drag him over, and the woman smiled at them, all warmth. “It’s good to see you again, Negan.”

“You, too, Jessie. This is Rick, by the way. Rick fucking Grimes. Best man I know.”

Rick laughed a little at that- Negan must be a little on the tipsy side, he mused- and Jessie held out a hand for him to shake. Rick braced himself for a second and took it. “Nice to meet you, Jessie.” He withdrew his hand- hopefully not too quickly- thankful that the alcohol had made touch more tolerable, because he felt like he’d been expected to shake about a dozen people’s hands tonight, and not everyone was as accommodating as Reg.

The hand that followed Jessie’s certainly wasn’t. Before Rick could brace himself, his hand was taken again, this time by a blonde man in a sweater. “This is my husband, Pete,” Jessie introduced, and Rick clenched his jaw, biting back on the urge to wrench away. He was thankful when the man dropped his hand to take Negan’s.

“Rick. Wanted to thank you for stepping up and being our constable,” Pete said. “We keep growing at this rate, we’ll need more of them.”

“Sounds like that’s what Deanna’s wanting,” Rick agreed.

“If you want to drop by my office next week, I can take a look at you.” Rick tilted his head, wary, and Pete laughed. “Probably should’ve said I was a doctor first,” he amended.

Rick’s whole body seemed to seize up at the thought. The idea of someone- especially this man, a complete stranger- _taking a look_ at him make him itch all over. He swallowed hard, trying to push away images of cold hands and probing fingers.

He snapped out of the sudden discomfort that crept over him by the sound of Sasha’s voice- raised and angry- from across the room.

_"You're worried- about this party? That's what you worry about?!"_

The woman she was speaking to looked alarmed and took a step back, and Sasha's lower lip trembled for a moment before she turned on her heel and swept out of the house. Rick moved to follow her, but Michonne caught his arm, holding him back. “Let me. I’ve got this.” To his surprise, Abraham followed after her.

Negan came up beside Rick, easily sliding an arm around his shoulders. “She okay?”

Rick worried his lip between his teeth. “Yeah. She hasn’t been…this is hard on her, adjusting to this. Dealing with people who have had it so easy. She’s lost a lot lately. Michonne and Abraham seem to be helpin’, though.”

Negan’s finger traced light lines over his shoulder. “Good. This mean we can duck out of this thing? I’m fucking dying to sleep in an actual goddamned bed tonight.”

Rick chuckled. “Yeah, we can go.”

* * *

Negan waved goodnight to Rick when they got back to the house, padding off to his room. Rick locked the front door behind him and then checked all the other doors and windows methodically, his worry giving way to compulsion.

He was surprised how quickly Judith and Carl fell asleep in their beds, almost immediately conking out once their heads hit the pillows. Rick tucked Judith in, kissed her and Carl goodnight, and then entered his own bedroom with some anxiety.

A bed to himself. A _room_ to himself. The last time he’d had that had been at the prison, and it had been a cell, a tiny bunk with a mattress so thin he could feel the unforgiving metal beneath it. Strangely, he suddenly longed for the comfort of the barred door that he could close behind him at night. He pulled his clothes off, stripping down to a t-shirt and boxers, and slid under the sheets. It was warm, comfortable, roomy- made for two people. The last time he’d slept in a bed like this he had been next to Lori. The thought created a pang of loneliness in his chest, and he rolled onto his side, unconsciously groping at the empty space beside him, for once wishing there was someone close enough to touch.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took a smidge longer than normal! Kept getting distracted working on other stuff.

Despite Negan falling asleep almost as soon as he collapsed into bed, he was still a light sleeper- a product of his time on his own. So when he heard the tinkling sound of breaking glass in the middle of the night, he bolted upright, on his feet and groping for a nonexistent weapon before he was even fully conscious. His empty hand felt cripplingly light without Lucille, but he pushed the thought away, grabbing the book on his nightstand because, _hey_ , it was a hardback and better than nothing, right?

He crept down the hall, heart in his throat, mind whirring in a panicked rush.

_Fuck. Fuck, Rick was fucking right. Someone’s breaking in and I have fucking Lord of the Flies to beat them off with…_

He kept moving, though, his steps as light as he could make them in the dark of the house. The thought of someone being in here- so close to Rick, to the kids- it terrified him beyond what he knew was entirely reasonable. He was silently thankful that his room was on the first floor so that he’d heard it first.

He could hear shuffling footsteps in the kitchen, and he raised the book a bit higher.

_If you think I’m going to let you touch any of them you’ve got another thing fucking coming-_

He stepped into the moonlit kitchen and saw a figure moving by the counter, fumbling with something. He couldn’t make them out in the blackness, but they didn’t look terribly huge- he could probably take them down-

A sudden warm light lit up in front of the intruder, and then they turned, facing Negan. They startled at Negan’s presence, the candle in their hand nearly tumbling to the floor in their breathless panic. Negan caught sight of the person’s terrified face and let out the tense breath that had been stuck in his lungs, his whole body sagging with relief.

“ _Rick_ ,” Negan breathed, letting his arms fall to his sides. “What the fuck. _Jesus_ , darlin’, I thought you were- fuck. I thought you were the Alexandria Assassin or some shit.” Rick was clutching the flickering candle, his breaths coming quick and fast, nearly hyperventilating, and Negan realized that he’d scared the other man far more than Rick had scared him. He moved toward Rick, expression soft. “Fuck, darlin’, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you- _shit!_ ” Negan yelped, jumping back when he felt a sudden searing pain shoot through the bottom of his foot. He stumbled back, and Rick swore, setting the candle on the counter.

“Shit! The glass- fuck, Negan, I’m sorry, I should have warned you-” He moved fast, leading Negan around the rest of the glass and sitting him in one of the chairs at the counter. He grabbed the candle and moved it closer, crouching and taking a look at the damage. “It’s not bad. Little bit of blood, but nothing too deep. I’m sorry,” He said again, straightening up and wandering back through the kitchen, grabbing some paper towels and coming back to blot at the shallow cuts on Negan’s foot.

“It’s alright, Rick. Really, I’m fine," Negan reassured. "You, uh. You wanna tell me why you’re down here breakin’ glass and givin’ me heart attacks at God-only-fucking-knows what time of night?”

“I…” Rick bit his lip, setting the bloodied towels aside. “It’s nothing. Just wanted some water. Tried to do it in the dark and ended up missing the counter.”

The was something in Rick’s voice that told Negan there was a little more to the story than he was letting on. Negan slid two fingers under Rick’s chin, gently urging his face up so he could look at him. Rick obliged, and Negan got his answer immediately.

“You’re not sleeping.” He could tell. It was carved into Rick’s face as if with a knife- the weariness, the dark, bruise-like shadows under his pale blue eyes. The eyes themselves were haunted, worry lurking just under the depths.

“I’m fine,” Rick murmured, and Negan wondered if he’d slept through the night since they’d gotten here. He was always still awake when Negan fell asleep beside him on the living room floor, already up when Negan woke in the mornings.

“You’re not. You look like hell. I’m fucking worried about you.”

“Well, don’t.” Rick snapped, immediately in defense mode. Negan should have known that wouldn’t work. Maybe a different approach.

“You’re a liability if you’re tired like this all the time, Rick. If you’re not going to sleep for your own well-being, at least realize that it could seriously cost someone else if you’re too tired to concentrate like you should. You’re the constable, and you still want to go beyond the wall, help with supply runs, right? It’s not safe for you to be running on next to no sleep like this.”

Rick was quiet at that. _Because he knows I’m right_ , Negan thought. After a moment, Rick sighed.

“Doesn’t matter. Not like I can help it. Not like I’m _choosing_ to stay up.” His voice was still defensive, but Negan could hear the way it wore on him. Heard the way it cut at him, shard of glass in soft skin. Negan slid his hand from Rick’s chin to the side of his face, thumb gently stroking his cheek.

“Are you- you’re still having nightmares, aren’t you?” Rick didn’t answer with words, but he didn’t need to. The pain that flickered across his expression told Negan all he needed to know. “You know you can wake me up, right, Rick?” He whispered, trying to cradle his words so that they were an offering, not condescension. “I don’t mind. I really fucking don’t.”

“Negan-”

“Rick, please. I’m fucking asking you. Please, the next time, wake me up.” He’d feel bad about wording it like that, like it was something Rick needed to do for _him_ , if he didn’t already know how much Rick wanted someone to be there with him. He could see it, behind the layers of weariness in his eyes, that core of loneliness. It was the reason he’d asked Negan to stay in the house with him, why he allowed the soft touches between them, why he’d opened up to Negan in the first place. Negan wanted to make that loneliness disappear, to fill that void it until it vanished altogether. Some of the ways he wanted to ease that ache were…less than pure, sure, but he would do it however Rick would let him. If all they ever did was sit at opposite ends of the room and stare at each other, that was fine by him. As long as it helped Rick. “You don’t need to deal with this shit alone, darlin’. You don’t have to.”

Rick pushed to his feet, and Negan followed suit, ignoring the sting of the cuts. Rick dodged his eyes, focusing on the shards of glass on the wooden floor instead. “I need to clean this up so nobody else gets hurt. Can you- can you hold the candle so I can see? I don’t want to miss anything.”

Negan nodded, taking the candle and holding it out to illuminate the floor. Rick grabbed the bloodied paper towels and started picking up the pieces gingerly, tossing them into the small trashcan beside the counter. When he was satisfied that he’d gotten all of it, he straightened, and Negan set the candle on the countertop again. “Thanks. I’ll, uh. I guess I’ll go back to bed now.”

Negan nodded. “Yeah. Alright. Get some fucking sleep, Rick.” He licked his fingers and snuffed out the candle, momentarily blind in the darkened kitchen while his eyes adjusted. He could make out Rick’s silhouette beside him, hazy in the moonlight, and the sudden desire to pull the man to him and follow him back to his bed was so tempting that he nearly had to brace himself on the countertop. He was at such a loss as to how to help Rick, and all he could think to do was to use his own body to comfort him, to physically shield him from everything that kept him awake at night.

But Rick didn’t want that. So Negan turned away, trying to bury the thoughts. It was when he took a step toward his bedroom and felt cold fingers grip his wrist tight that his heart stuttered in his chest.

“Thank you, Negan.”

Rick’s voice was the barest whisper between them, a low, reverent sound in the empty kitchen. Negan’s chest was tight as he turned into Rick, the man’s blue eyes a navy-black in the dark. Impulsively, Negan leaned into the touch, hovering for a moment before pressing his lips to Rick’s forehead in a kiss that he hoped conveyed even a fraction of his affection. He could hear Rick’s unsteady breathing below him, and his eyes were wide when Negan pulled back.

“Of course. Anything, Rick. I fucking mean it. All you have to do is ask.”

* * *

When Rick woke up the next morning, he was momentarily disoriented, not recognizing the room he was in. His mind reeled in panic for a moment- _Where’s Carl? Judith? Everyone? Where the hell am I?_

It took a minute to come back fully to himself, remembering where he was. He flopped back against the pillows, allowing himself a moment to just enjoy the softness, the warmth and comfort of a real bed, of blankets and sheets and a mattress beneath him.

He thought back to last night, to Negan in the kitchen, how he’d been so kind to him. He ruminated on the gentle words, the offer to come to him if Rick ever woke up like that again, the feeling of lips on his forehead that had lingered long after they’d said their goodnights and parted ways.

He was ashamed to admit that he’d nearly asked Negan to stay with him then. In his moment of shaky weakness, he very much wanted to request that Negan keep him company until he fell back asleep, talk to him until he drifted out of consciousness like they’d done on the nights driving to Virginia. He always slept so much better then.

As it was, he had replayed the memory of Negan’s lips on his forehead and his surprisingly soft-spoken words in his head until he’d fallen asleep alone. And it seemed to work- he had slept much less fitfully, not waking up until just now. He rolled over in bed and checked his watch- which he’d reset to the correct time upon arriving in Alexandria and talking to Deanna, who had apparently been keeping the proper time since the beginning. It was just past eight.

He rolled out of bed, padding barefoot down the hall to check on Carl and Judith- only to find both of their rooms empty. A knot of fear twisted in his chest, and he rushed downstairs, only to be met by the sight of them both in the kitchen, Carl sitting at the counter and Judith toddling around underfoot while Negan worked away over the stove.

A warm, sweet scent filled the kitchen, and Rick leaned over the counter to get a better look after greeting Carl and Judith. “Are those…pancakes?”

Negan swung around, artfully flipping a pancake in the skillet. “Sure as shit are, Rick! Carol and I have been swappin’ recipes. We’ve got blueberry and plain, which kind d’you want?”

“Language,” Rick chided halfheartedly, still eyeing the pan hungrily, mouth watering . “And blueberry.”

It was a strange and wonderful thing, eating blueberry pancakes in his- _his!_ \- kitchen with his children and Negan. It was very nearly normal, bringing back memories of Sunday mornings spent similarly with Carl and Lori.

He was still in the good mood that pancakes and domestic mornings provided while he was out on his morning patrol. He was only dragged out of his blissful state when he passed by an open garage to see Jessie inside, looking forlornly at a pile of twisted metal on the ground.

“Hey,” He said, taking a step inside, “You alright?”

“Oh, hey, Rick. Yeah, I’m fine. Just…someone must not like owls.” She replied, indicating the pile. “It was a sculpture I was working on with the boys. I walked out here and it was like this.”

“Someone came in here and did this?” He could make out how it was supposed to be an owl now, but several pieces had broken off in its tumble to the ground. “I can look into it for you. Try and find out who did it.”

Jessie shook her head, blonde ponytail bobbing. “It’s not a big deal, Rick. Really. What would happen if you did find them?”

Rick shrugged. “Some kind of consequences. If we’re going to start rebuildin’ society like Deanna wants, we’ve gotta start somewhere, right?” He gave her a small smile. “Besides. I need somethin’ to do today.”

* * *

Negan was a couple hours into construction duty when Abraham sidled up next to him while he was taking a quick water break. He was ready to tell the other man to fuck off, the words dancing on the tip of his tongue, but Abe spoke first.

“So you and Rick…you two playin’ hide the sausage?”

Negan choked on his own laughter, practically dropping his water as he spluttered around a mouthful. “Are we fucking doing _what_?”

Abraham coughed uncomfortably, shrugging his shoulders. “You know. Uggin’ bumplies. Doin’ the two-man sword fight.”

Negan found it very hard to no collapse into the dirt in a violent fit of laughter. As it was, he was doubled over, wheezing laughs escaping him and making the rest of the construction crew stare.

“Ho-ly _shit_! You just get right to the damn point, don’t you? Fuck, you got any more of those? _The two-man sword fight_ …shit, that’s good stuff,” Negan straightened up, wiping tears from the crinkling corners of his eyes. “To answer the damn question, though, _one_ , that’s none of your goddamn business, and _two_ , no, we’re not.” Negan’s eyes flashed dangerously, “Would it be a fucking problem if we were?”

Abraham looked surprised by this news. “I don’t give half a redneck’s hairy ass what y’all do in your spare time. I’m just askin’ cause I got a bet goin’ with Sasha.”

Negan’s jaw clenched. “Do you now?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a damn twist. We’re not makin’ fun. If it helps, we got a similar bet goin’ about Beth and Noah.”

Negan laughed at that. Now that’s a pair he could see. Beth and Noah had stuck close since Beth’s rescue from Grady Memorial, and they were the only two people close to each other’s ages. They were staying in the same house as Maggie and Glenn- albeit in separate rooms- but Maggie had expressed her concern that the two would try to sneak into each other’s rooms multiple times- to which Negan had told her that Beth was a goddamned adult, and she could do a whole lot worse than a sweet kid like Noah.

“So y’all really aren’t fuckin’?”

“We’re not, no. What the hell made you think we were?”

“Ya’ll seem…awful close, is all. You’re always hoverin’ around him, and y’all…hold hands and shit. The other day, Sasha said she heard you call him darlin’.”

Negan blinked. He hadn’t realized that other people had noticed the little touches between himself and Rick.

“And you’re livin’ with him. Not that we’re not _all_ livin’ together, but it’s just you and him and his kids over there in that house. Raises some questions,” He caught the look on Negan’s face, “Calm your tits. Nobody gives a flyin’ fuck. Seems like a damn petty thing to worry about these days, I think. If anyone does give a rat’s ass, not like they’re gonna say anything about it. They know they’d get their asses handed to them by one or both of you.”

“Good,” Negan said. Abraham squinted at him for a second.

“You want to though, don’t you?”

Negan sighed deeply. “I want to what? Put an end to this fucking uncomfortable-ass conversation? Get back to work so people stop shooting us dirty looks?”

“You wanna play hide the sausage with him.” Abraham looked amused.

Negan sighed. “Are we really doing this right now? You _really_ wanna have a conversation about who I may or may not want to stick my dick in?”

Abraham shrugged, chuckling. “Got me there. Not really. Just wondering how likely it is that I’m gonna be winning this bet.”

Negan reached for the the sledgehammer he’d set down a few minutes before and threw it over his shoulder. “Anything that happens between us is up to him, so I don’t think there’s going to be a whole fucking lot to talk about. If you’re smart, you’ll get Sasha to drop the bet. And if you’re _really_ smart, you won’t fucking mention this to anyone.”

“Sure thing.” Abraham grunted.

* * *

Rick got home before Negan did. He hadn't done much today- just patrolled the wall and asked around about Jessie's statue. Nobody had seen anything, so they said. The house empty and quiet; Carl was off with Jessie’s son, Ron, and a few other teenagers, and Judith was soundly asleep in her crib upstairs. Rick had changed out of his uniform and was just about to go check on her- for the fifth time in a half hour, he was a little more than paranoid- when a knock at the front door interrupted him.

He answered it, surprised to see Pete, Jessie’s husband, standing there with a couple of beers in hand. The man didn’t wait for an invitation, opting to walk right inside and into the foyer between the kitchen and living room. Rick caught a whiff of him as he strolled by- the beers in his hand were clearly not the only ones he’d had today.

“Hey, Rick. I was havin’ a beer, thought I’d bring you one. Heard you helped out my wife today.” He offered one of the bottles to Rick expectantly.

Rick eyed the bottle but didn't take it. “I’m good, but thanks. And I didn’t do much earlier.”

“C’mon. Don’t tell me you’re still on duty.”

“I kinda always am, you know.” Rick replied.

“Not at Deanna’s party. I saw you. You were drinking there. You and…”

Pete trailed off, and Rick supplied the missing name. “Negan.”

“Right, Negan.” He withdrew the offered bottle, seeming to grasp that Rick wasn’t going to take it.

“I wish I could’ve done more today,” Rick said, “I didn’t get much. I asked around to see if anyone saw anything, no luck.”

Pete shrugged, seeming unbothered. “It was just an owl. In the grand scheme of things, I think we’ll live.” Rick nodded, unsure of what to say to that. Sure, the sculpture wasn’t a big deal, but it wasn’t like there was much else for him to do today but look into it, and Jessie had seemed upset about it.

“Heard you lost your wife,” Pete suddenly said, and Rick nearly startled at the sudden change in topic. He tried to keep his face impassive- this wasn’t a subject he was keen to discuss with a tipsy stranger, especially one giving off the vibes Pete was. He’d tried to brush off their initial meeting as poor word choice and his own paranoid discomfort, but even now, he felt like something was not quite right with Pete. “We’ve lost things here, too. May not look like it, compared to what you’ve seen, but we have. Some things we’ve lost, some things we’re just trying like hell to hold on to. I hope you all see that.”

Rick nodded, eager to have this conversation end. “We see that. We do.”

And then all of Rick’s senses were on high alert as Pete lurched into his space, looming a couple inches over him. Rick swallowed hard, rooting himself to the spot and trying desperately to quell the influx of fear that was lapping at him. “Let’s be friends, Rick. We kinda have to be, don’t we?”

Rick forced a smile. “Yeah.”

Pete broke into a grin. “Good.” He clapped Rick on the shoulder, and then again on the back as he made his way toward the front door again. Rick sincerely hoped that Pete was drunk enough that he didn’t notice how he flinched at the offending touch. “I’ll see you around,” Pete called, already halfway down the porch. Rick watched as he half-waved to Negan, who was approaching the house, sweaty and dirt-smudged. He gave Pete an odd look as he walked in, shutting the door behind him. A swell of relief composed of Pete leaving and Negan arriving overtook Rick, and he smiled as he watched Negan flop gracelessly into a kitchen chair.

“Was that guy day-drunk? What was he doing over here?”

“Offered me a beer, mentioned my dead wife, got real close and said he wanted to be friends.” Rick muttered, frowning as he leaned against the table.

“Weird fucking guy,” Negan hummed, pulling off his boots. 

“I don’t know about him. Maybe it’s just me not seein’ things right, but somethin’ about him seems off to me,” Rick confided, looking to Negan- for what, he wasn’t sure. Reassurance that he was being paranoid? Or for the other man to back up his bad feeling?

Negan opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Carol coming in the back door, her face stormy and discontented. Both men turned to face her, and Rick tilted his head, wondering why she looked so concerned.

“Pete’s hitting Jessie,” Carol said darkly, “maybe her younger boy, Sam, too.”

They were both on their feet in and instant, looking to Carol.

“How do you know this?” Rick asked, mentally replaying his interactions with Pete and Jessie in his mind- he’d had his own reservations about Pete, but this…this was a big accusation, and certainly not one that Carol of all people would make lightly.

“Sam stopped by my house today, looking for more cookies. He caught me in the armory the other night, when I was about to take the guns, and I promised to make him some to keep him quiet. He said he gets sad sometimes, that he breaks things. He's the one that broke that owl statue you were asking everyone about, Rick. And he asked me for a gun. For protection. He said that it wasn’t for him, and then he ran off before I could ask him anything else.”

Rick heard Negan’s sharp intake of breath, could see him squaring up his shoulders in heated anger beside him. “He said he wanted it for protection against Pete?”

“He didn’t have to.” Carol’s face was infinitely sad and knowing, her despair for the boy and his mother etched deeply onto her face.

“Fuck,” Negan growled, “You were fucking right, Rick. He was just saying that he had a bad fucking feeling about this prick, Carol. Fucking cop instinct.”

Rick was inclined to agree with him. He couldn’t have guessed that this was what was going on with him, though. Rage twisted inside of him, thinking of Jessie and Sam- _Sam_ , Ron's little brother, who couldn’t be more than eight or nine- cowering under Pete’s dominating presence. Suddenly the man’s midday  binge drinking seemed much less sad and much more threatening.

Carol’s face was grim as she turned to Rick. “I know how this is gonna go with Pete. There’s only one way it _can_ go. You’re going to have to kill him.”

Negan nodded in violent approval. “Fuck yeah we are. How the hell has nobody noticed this before now? They’ve all been together in this place for over a year- I find it hard to fucking believe that nobody’s noticed that the two of them are getting knocked around.”

“We can’t just kill him-” Rick started, holding a hand up to silence Negan’s noise of protest. “We can’t. We’re not in charge here.”

“He’s dangerous, Rick. We can’t just leave Jessie and Sam unprotected.” Carol interjected.

“We’re not. _Believe_ me, we’re not,” Rick intoned, “but we have to play this smart. If we just start killing people first and explaining after, these people could turn on us real quick, and that's going to get real bad for us. I’ll talk to Deanna tomorrow. She’s smart, she’s kept these people together for this long. She told me that she’s had people removed from this community before. She seems like a woman who will do what it takes to keep the order.”

“And if she isn’t?” Carol asked.

Rick gritted his teeth. “Then I’ll kill him. Like you said.”

* * *

Rick wasn’t surprised that he had trouble sleeping that night. He tossed and turned endlessly, restless with a deep well of worry in his stomach. The last time he rolled over to check the time on his watch- which he’d been doing periodically throughout the night- the hour hand was hovering over the three. Luckily, it wasn’t long after that that sleep finally claimed him.

_“You’re going to fucking take it. You’re going to take it like our women did when those monsters came through here. We killed all of them then, just like we’re going to kill you.”_

_Rick shook violently, his arms twisted and bound painfully behind his back, the icy cold of the concrete floor stinging against his bare stomach where his shirt had ridden up._

_“We’re all just animals, Rick. Every single one of us. That’s what we have to become to survive. So you’re going to take it, and then you’re going to go back out there with your friends and get back on your knees and become our dinner. Survival of the fittest.”_

_Gareth’s voice slithered over Rick’s exposed flesh like a snake, a threat._

_Rick struggled, and his resistance was met with cruel fingers seizing his neck and his head being slammed down onto the unforgiving floor. He could taste the warm copper of flood bursting in his mouth as he bit into his tongue, pain cracking through his skull and dizzying him._

_He knew what was going to happen, had known since Gareth had reached for the buckle of his belt._ _But he wasn’t prepared for it. Not when it happened, sudden and violent and painful in a way he’d never conceived of before._

_He wished he could say that the way his teeth were splitting open his lower lip in a desperate effort at silence distracted from it._

_It didn’t._

Rick shot up in bed, his heart slamming against his ribcage. He was gripping the sheets below him, which were soaked through with a cold sweat that made him feel too much like he felt that day, his body trembling as he bit back on a broken sob.

He half-fell out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, hoping the shower didn’t wake up Carl or Judith. He crawled under the spray and sat there for a while, eyes closed, taking deep, unsteady breaths.

_Just a dream. A fucking dream. You’re fine._

He changed into fresh clothes when he got out- a dry shirt and boxers- and stared at his bed. Suddenly, he didn’t want to get back in, terrified that if he did, if he laid down in the same sheets he’d just sweated through, he would end up right back in that cold room with Gareth behind him.

_Negan. Negan said I could come to him. Any time._

He very nearly ignored the thought, but the memory of Negan’s lips on his forehead, soft and comforting, drew him out of his room and down the stairs until he was hovering in Negan’s doorway. The door was open, the room dark with nighttime, but Rick’s eyes had adjusted enough to see the outline of the man under the sheets, his chest rising and falling with sleep-heavy breaths.

_This is stupid. I shouldn’t wake him up like this because I had a fucking nightmare_ , Rick reprimanded himself, even as he stepped into Negan’s room. He felt like a child coming to him like this, but the shame of it didn’t outweigh the heaviness of his eyelids from restless nights and the fear that gripped him when he thought of resuming his dream.

“Negan,” Rick said, feeling stupid as he reached out to shake the man’s bare shoulder. Negan’s reaction was instantaneous, jerking awake under Rick’s hand and grabbing for a book sitting on his nightstand.

“ _Whothefucksthere-_ ” Negan rasped, his words slurred with sudden wakefulness. Rick took a step back.

“It’s me. Rick.” He could make out Negan rubbing at his eyes and setting the book down again.

“Fuck. Shit. Jesus tap-dancing fucking Christ, Rick. Somethin’ wrong?”

Rick scrubbed a hand over his face awkwardly. “I, ah. I was wonderin’- you said that if I…if I woke up again, that I could, uh…” He trailed off, feeling foolish, but Negan groped for his hand in the dark, twining their fingers together.

“Yeah. Fuck, sorry. Of fucking course you can wake me up, darlin’. You wanna- wanna talk or somethin’?” His words were split by a wide yawn, and Rick found himself almost smiling at that.

“I just don’t wanna be alone right now. Can’t fucking sleep in that bed.”

Negan tugged Rick a little closer, and Rick sat on the edge of the mattress next to him. “You wanna sleep down here?”

Rick’s face flushed- he realized now how it sounded, how it looked, him coming down here to wake Negan up, saying he didn’t want to be in his own bed. “I- I didn’t mean- I don’t want you to be- I’ll just go.” Flustered, Rick moved to stand, but Negan held fast to his hand.

“Don’t go, Rick. You don’t gotta fucking go. Wasn’t- I wasn’t makin’ fun of you. If you wanna stay here, you can stay.” He scooted up in bed, putting a hand on Rick’s shoulder. “You’re fucking shaking, Rick. Come here.” Negan slid an arm around Rick’s shoulders, and Rick turned into him, seeking warmth and the comfort of another person, suddenly craving arms around him so badly that it ached. Before he could talk himself out of it, he was gripping and Negan’s shoulders and resting his forehead against the crook of Negan’s neck. Negan pulled him closer, one hand stroking his hair gently while the other rubbed his back. “Stay here, Rick. I’ve got you. I’ve fucking got you, darlin’.”

His sense of shame long since gone, Rick poured himself into Negan’s arms, let himself be guided to lay back on the bed with the other man’s arms wrapped protectively around him while he breathed in the warm, familiar scent of Negan. He breathed in and out, focusing on the leather-and-soap smell, the way Negan’s arms curled around his body, the way his lips felt as the pressed against Rick’s hair, speaking soothing words that he could only half- hear as he drifted off into a blessedly peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're at the point in the series where there there are a ton of side plots that don't involve the characters I'm focusing on, and I really don't have any interest in trying to work in canon sideplots just for the sake of keeping things strictly in line with the show. So for example, in this chapter, if I was going by the show, Noah and Aiden should have died out on the run with Glenn, Nicholas, etc. I was already going to cut Noah's death- I'd made that decision a while back around the time I saved Beth. So he's still alive and kicking, and so is Aiden, because 1. I feel like this story isn't improved or made more interesting by me reiterating the episodes exactly and 2. This is, at the end of the day, a fic about Negan and Rick. This isn't to say I'm going to cut out every side plot, but ones that don't add to the story or that I don't particularly care for are subject to change/omission. 
> 
> I say all this because I don't want people to read this and think "Oh, hey, I though he was dead? Did I miss something?" If something like a character death happens, I don't want to just assume that people know the canon to know when characters die. If something important like a death or something happens off-screen, I will make sure to address it in the fic so that it's not confusing.
> 
> Anyway, sorry for the wall of text! Thanks so much for reading, I hope you're all still enjoying it!


	14. Chapter 14

When Negan woke up the next morning, it was to the unfamiliar feeling of a warm body tangled up with his own. He opened his eyes and his breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the man sleeping soundly in his arms.

For once, Rick looked peaceful as he slept; his face was relaxed and unworried, long lashes casting the barest shadows over the tops of his cheekbones. Curling locks of his hair fell over his forehead and into his face- it was still so long since he’d refused a haircut. His sharp jawline was covered in rough stubble, and Negan was tempted to bring a hand up and rub the pad of his thumb over it, feel the coarse drag of short hair.

Rick was…well, he was fucking beautiful. Negan longed to lean in, close the short distance between their mouths and taste those full, pink lips.

As it was, he simply settled back into the bed, pulling Rick closer to him and resting his chin atop the smaller man’s head. He felt Rick shift beside him and inwardly cursed himself- who knew if this was a one-time thing? Knowing Rick, he’d probably wake up, be flushed and embarrassed to find himself in Negan’s arms, and then resolve to stay in his own room from now on. The thought made Negan ache terribly- it had been so long since he’d held someone like this, and now that he had it back, he realized just how much he missed it. All he wanted in the world right now was for Rick to stay curled up with him a little while longer, allow him to pretend that this was something that he could have all the time.

Rick made a soft, sleepy sound in his throat that Negan found unbelievably endearing, and his grip on Negan’s bare back slipped and then tightened. Negan held his breath as Rick nuzzled further into his arms, pressing his face warmly against Negan’s chest.

Negan waited for the other shoe to drop- for Rick to freeze up, to jerk away, to mutter his wife’s name, thinking Negan was her. It was the only explanation Negan could think of for why Rick was snuggling in closer.

But none of that came. Instead, Rick muttered, “Mornin’,” sleepily against Negan’s chest, his lips lightly grazing the skin there and making Negan shiver.

An accident, Negan was sure.

Negan ran a cautious hand through Rick’s long hair, working the tangles out of it with his fingers. “Good morning, darlin’. You sleep alright?”

“Hmm,” Rick hummed, squirming closer like he was trying to steal Negan’s body heat. Negan found he wouldn’t have minded. “Yeah, I did. No nightmares,” he raised his head, lifting up crystal blue eyes to meet Negan’s own. “You always help with that. Don’t know what it is. It was the same back in the car drivin’ up here. I just sleep better bein’ around you.”

Negan tried to keep his voice light so as not to betray just how much the words meant to him. “That right, darlin’? Shit, maybe you should sleep here every night then, huh?”

He’d meant it as a joke- one with a truly embarrassing amount of want and truth behind it, but he knew he could never outright ask Rick to stay. All he could do was offer.

“Mm,” Rick murmured, “Maybe I will. If, ah. If that’s alright.” Negan sucked in a breath, eyes wide. He hadn’t been expecting that. Rick’s face closed off a little, his eyes clouding over. “I mean…I mean, I don’t have to. Just. If you were offering-” His face flushed, and Negan immediately jumped to his rescue.

“Of course I was offering!” He pulled Rick in closer, a subconscious act, but one that Rick didn’t fight him on. “I want you here. Especially if it helps you. You can stay with me any damn night you please, Rick. Every night, if you’ll have me.”

Rick was grinning now, sweet and lazy. “Good.” He stayed in Negan’s arms, fingertips tracing easy lines down his spine. He scooted up on the bed a little more so that they were face to face, sharing one pillow, and Negan suddenly felt like breathing was no longer an option. “What do you mean, _especially_ if it helps me?”

Negan blinked, confused. “I mean I’m happy to fucking help. I told you that before, Rick- anything you need.”

Rick shook his head, brow furrowed. “No, I know that. I mean- the way you said it, sounded like you wanted me here either way.”

Negan’s heart stopped, and he kicked himself for the slip of tongue. “I just fucking- I mean, I don’t mind if you-” He swallowed hard, unsure of how to talk his way out of this. “Just didn’t fucking come out right, is all.”

“Hm,” Rick said, searching Negan’s face. Those blue eyes suddenly felt like a spotlight, trained on him specifically to expose the feelings he was trying so hard to stuff under the rug. But…Rick was here. He was in Negan’s arms, in his bed, touching his bare skin, holding him close…was it so impossible that Rick could feel the same way? The world had gone insane, sure, and people often got more comfortable with each other than they were before, but surely it had to mean something that Rick was lingering here long after his nightmares had passed.

Rick’s tongue darted out unconsciously, wetting his lips, and Negan heard the way his own breath hitched in the bare space between them. Rick couldn’t have missed that.

The draw to close the gap between them was intoxicating, overwhelming. It was all Negan could think- those full lips, pressed firm and warm against his own-

“Dad!” Carl’s alarmed voice rang down the hall, and they both jolted, Rick sitting up while Negan rolled over, his heart pounding against his ribs. “Dad! You down here? Negan, have you seen-” Carl froze in the open doorway, taking in the scene- his father, sleep-rumpled and in bed with a shirtless Negan. He seemed to not know what to say, awkwardly shuffling on his feet. “I, uh. You weren’t in your room. I got worried. Sorry, I’ll uh- I can go get Judith, I think she’s awake.”

Carl moved to dart away, seeming eager to get away from the scene, but Rick scrambled out of bed after him. “No, it’s fine, Carl. I’ll get her. You and Negan can start on breakfast.” With that, he was out the door with one last smile over his shoulder at Negan, and Carl was left standing uncomfortably in the doorway. He avoided eye contact, staring at the foot of the bed.

“Get dressed,” he muttered awkwardly, “I’ll start on the eggs.” And then he was gone.

Negan groaned quietly and slid out of bed, grabbing for a clean t-shirt out of the dresser. “I was wearing pants, at least,” he muttered.

When he padded into the kitchen, Rick still wasn’t back downstairs, and Carl was already scrambling up a pan of powdered eggs. Negan awkwardly started gathering up the salt and pepper when Carl spoke into the pan.

“So you and my dad, then?”

Negan rubbed at his hair, added some pepper to the cooking eggs. “It’s not what you think. Not what it looked like.”

Carl looked up at him then, eyebrows raised high. “I find that kinda hard to believe.”

Negan frowned and handed him the salt. “Well, believe it. Because it’s true.”

“So why were you sharing a bed?”

Negan swallowed his pride. “I’ve been fucking lonely, alright, kid? I’ve seen some shit out there, real bad shit. I have trouble sleeping. Helps to have somebody there.” The first part was true, at least. Having Rick there this morning made him realize just how lonely he’d been all those months on his own. Hell, how lonely he’d been since Lucille passed away, even.

Carl scrutinized him, eyes narrowed. “You know I don’t care if you’re- _together_ , right? It doesn’t bother me. Mom’s been gone for a while, and…and I know that she wouldn’t want him to be alone forever.”

“Well, we’re not together,” Negan muttered. “Stir those fuckin’ eggs. They’re gonna turn into a damn omelet.”

Carl stirred, breaking up the larger clumps that had already cooked. “Sure looked like you were together to me.”

Negan sighed. “Doesn’t matter what it looked like. Only matters what it is. I don’t think your dad’s interested in somethin’ like that.”

Carl gave Negan a strange look. “Like what? Because you’re a guy? Because if that’s what’s stopping you, you’re pretty fucking stupid.”

Negan’s eyes narrowed. “Watch your fucking language. Your dad’ll have a fucking stroke if he hears you talking like that. And then he’ll kick my ass right outta hear for teaching it to you.”

Carl rolled his eyes and started doling out eggs onto plates. “I’m fourteen, Negan. Not four. You’re not the first person who’s sworn in front of me. And he won’t kick you out. He likes you. I told you that before.”

“Not like that, kid.” Negan said.

Carl took a forkful of egg. “Whatever you say. But you’re wrong.”

At that moment, Rick descended the stairs, Judith in his arms. He’d thrown on a pair of jeans over the boxers he’d worn to sleep, but his hair was still messy, fluffed up on one side. “Smells like eggs,” He hummed happily, “You wanna try some, Judy?”

Negan watched as Rick and Carl tried to coax Judith to take some of the eggs, his mind a mess of confused thoughts. He knew he shouldn’t be contemplating Carl’s words, but he couldn’t help it. He kept wondering what would have happened if Carl had interrupted them earlier- would he have snapped and kissed Rick? He didn’t think so, not without the other man’s permission. He’d wanted to so badly, but that was a huge line to cross. They’d both been so close, though. If he’d leaned in a little closer, made the offer…would Rick have shoved him away, disgusted? Or would he have moved closer, melted into it, pressed their lips together…

He wanted Carl to be right. Oh, god, did he want Carl to be right.

Carol wandered in as they were cleaning up the mess from breakfast, ready to take Judith for the afternoon while Rick did his patrols. Carl had ducked off after he’d wolfed down his eggs and toast, heading over to the makeshift school in one woman’s garage. Rick had been thrilled when he’d learned that there was someone to teach the kids here- it seemed a grandiose luxury, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. Something to keep Carl occupied, he’d said. Something to teach him more than killing.

Negan finished up the dishes while Rick handed Judith over to Carol.

“I spoke to Sam again,” Carol said grimly. “He said that his mom installed a bolt on the inside of his closet door. Tells him to lock in and stay in there till morning some nights.”

Negan’s hiss of anger was echoed by Rick, and Carol continued. “He says he can hear his dad yelling, breaking things. Said last month it got quiet right in the middle of it, and he went downstairs. He found her on the floor. Bleeding. Unconscious. Pete was just sitting on the porch, drinking a beer. Like it was nothing.”

“That fucking piece of shit- fucking shit-eating _bastard_ -” Negan spit the words violently, jaw clenching. He turned to Rick, who looked stricken and vengeful. “We’re not going to fucking do nothing about this. We have to-”

Rick held up a hand. “I know. We’re not. I’m going to talk to Deanna as soon as I leave.”

Negan blew out a heated breath. “Fine. Good. Fucking good.”

* * *

Rick donned his uniform and quickly headed over to Deanna’s, eager not to waste any time. He knocked on the front door and stepped inside when Deanna answered.

“Rick, everything alright?”

“We need to talk. About Pete,” Rick said evenly, “We have a problem.”

Rick could see the way he face changed- from her initial curiosity when Rick entered the house to a weariness that held no surprise. And in that moment, he knew, before she even said it, but the words were disgusting and caught in his throat.

“I’d hoped it would get better,” Deanna sighed.

“You _knew_ ,” Rick growled, finding his words. “It hasn’t gotten better, Deanna. It won’t, not on its own. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen something like this.”

Deanna frowned. “Pete is a surgeon. The only person we have who’s a trained medical professional. We need him here.”

Rick thought of Hershel, how he’d made do with veterinary training. How he’d taught Carol, how Beth had picked up some things from her time at Grady. How Negan and Abraham, working together, had managed to get a bullet out of his shoulder and stitch him up. “We’ve managed to make do without a surgeon. We have people who know how to patch things up. We can make do without him.”

“No.”

“He’s beating his wife, maybe his kids!” Rick snapped, “We have to stop it.”

“And how are you proposing we do that, Rick?”

“We separate them,” Rick offered, trying to find a compromise that wasn’t killing him. “Tell him that’s how it’s gonna be from now on. Appoint someone- maybe a couple people- as guards, like parole officers.”

“What happens when he doesn’t want to do that?”

“It’s not his choice,” Rick answered grimly.

“But what happens, Rick? What happens if he tries to attack one of the guards, or slips out and tries to go back home?” Deanna asked.

“I kill him. We kill him.”

Deanna’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t kill people here, Rick. This is civilization.”

“And letting someone abuse his wife and kids, what’s that then?” Rick barked, “Is that _civilization_?”

“We’re not killing our own.” Deanna asserted.

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, making a frustrated sound behind his teeth. “So what, then? What would you propose we do?”

“We exile him, if it comes to that.”

Rick barked a mirthless laugh at that. Who the hell was she kidding? “And who’s to say he doesn’t come back? Doesn’t sneak over the wall? We’ll have no way of knowing when he comes back or where he is if we do that.”

“We’re not executing anyone, Rick. Don’t suggest it again, ever. That kind of thinking doesn’t belong here.”

 “People die now, Deanna. They _do_ ,” Rick implored. “It’s times like this where you can decide _who_ and _when_. Some people don’t deserve second chances, and it sounds like Pete’s been given a lot more than two.”

“My word is final, Rick,” Deanna said firmly, brushing past him and opening the front door again. “You can go now.”

Rick left without a backwards glance, frustrated and annoyed. He made a beeline for Jessie’s house, wanting to talk to her first- it would be easier to get Pete out of the house if she went along with it, after all.

He found her around back, in the garage, lit cigarette between her lips, smoke dissipating around her. She snuffed it out when she saw Rick, looking a bit rueful

“Don’t want Ron and Sam to know about those.”

Rick dipped his head. “Your secret’s safe with me.” And then, testing the waters: “How’s Pete feel about them?”

He saw it- the nearly imperceptible flinch there. “He doesn’t mind.”

There was no way to ease into it, so Rick just dove right in. “I know what he’s doing, Jessie. That he’s hitting you. That he’s hurting you. It has to stop.”

Fear flickered in Jessie’s eyes, and Rick ached for her. “It will. It was like this before- before everything. He got help, and things were good. I helped him. I can fix it again.”

How many times had Rick heard that from similarly abused people, back when he was a real cop? How many people had he talked to that had tried to defend the boyfriend or girlfriend or spouse that had laid hands to them just hours earlier? “Jessie. You _can’t_. But I can.”

“How?” Jessie snapped, defensive. “What are you going to do, Rick? Put him in jail? It doesn’t work like that anymore. Anything you do is just going to make it worse.”

Rick’s eyes flashed. “If it’s gotten worse, it means he’s killed you. Or started hitting your boys. Unless he’s already done that, too.”

“He hasn’t,” Jessie interjected, “He hasn’t, it’s just me.”

“And you don’t think that’s enough to warrant some action?” Rick asked.

“Why do you care?” Jessie was lashing out now, feeling trapped. Rick hated to have put her in a corner, especially since he knew exactly what that felt like. To be backed up, terrified. But he wasn’t going to hurt her. It was almost an offensive question to ask- why would he care if a woman was being beaten by her husband. Did he really need a reason more than _“any decent person would”_?

“I’ve seen a lot of people die, Jessie,” Rick said gently, “Friends. Family. My wife, even. Some of it couldn’t have been stopped. But some of it could have. There are people I could have saved, could have helped, but I didn’t know how to. I don’t want you to be one of those people. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Jessie’s face softened a little at that, but she quickly steeled herself. “I can take care of myself, Rick.” She moved to go back inside the house, but Rick called out to her again right as she opened the door.

“Sam asked Carol for a gun. To protect you. Is that taking care of yourself?”

Her steps stuttered, just for a moment. And then there was the sound of the front door slamming, and she tensed, her whole body on alert. “Pete’s home. You need to go. _Now_.”

She pressed the button to close the garage door, and Rick watched her as she disappeared.

* * *

Rick scrubbed a frustrated hand over his face, unsure of how to proceed. Now that Pete was home, he couldn’t try to talk to Jessie anymore, but he didn’t feel right leaving her and her kids in that house with him for another night. This wasn’t something he felt right about waiting around for the perfect moment.

 He had to get Pete out of there, but it wouldn’t be the best move to confront him on his own- Pete was bigger than him, and while Rick had the muscle, he knew that it was likely to become a knock-down-drag-out brawl if he went alone, and Deanna would definitely not appreciate that. He got the feeling that he was on thin ice after their conversation today.

And, shamefully, he felt a knot of fear in his gut at the thought of Pete putting his hands on him. It wasn’t going to stop him from fighting- there’s no way he would allow his lingering trauma to prevent him from doing what he knew had to be done. But he hadn’t been in a situation where he had to fight, _really_ fight, since Terminus, and he’d gotten through that in a red haze, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. That wasn’t what he wanted to do here.

Michonne. Michonne would help him. She was the other constable, after all.

Except he couldn’t find her, not as he ran the border of the wall to catch her on patrol. Where the hell was she?

“Lookin’ for somebody, Rick?” Negan’s voice made him turn on his heel.

Rick nodded, “Yeah, Michonne. You seen her? I thought she’d be on patrol by now, but I can’t find her anywhere.”

Negan jerked his head at the wall, rubbing his hands on the dirt-smudged jeans that he wore to work construction. “Yeah, I saw her as we were getting back. Her and Rosita. Looked like they were taking a trip out beyond the wall, had a couple guns with them. Probably getting fucking antsy, I don’t think I’ve seen her go out since we got here. Why?” He asked, “You need her for something? I can point you in their direction.”

Rick shook his head. He didn’t have time to be running around in the woods trying to find her. Looking at Negan now, the way his white t-shirt was stretched tight over a muscular chest and arms, how he had a couple inches on Rick’s height…that could work, actually.

“No, it’s alright. I just…I just need some backup on something,” Rick replied. “I could use you, actually. If you’re up to it.”

Negan looked him over curiously. “Backup on what? You taking care of the situation with Pete?”

Rick nodded his affirmation. “Yeah. Talked to Jessie just now, and she…she said she wants to take care of it herself. She’s trying to protect him. She said he’s not hitting her boys, but I know how this goes. I’ve seen it. Only a matter of time before that violence gets turned on them, too. I think she’d ask for help then, but I don’t want it to come to that. I want to take care of this now.”

Negan’s eyes were alight with determination. “Fuck yeah, Rick. Atta boy. Yeah, I’m fucking in. What do you need me to do?”

Rick hesitated only a moment before saying, “Go get your gun. The one Carol gave you the other night. We may not need it, but…” He let the implication hand in the air: _but if it comes down to it, it’s us before him._

“We’re not killing him, then?” Negan asked, walking alongside Rick as they made their way back to the house.

“Not unless we have to,” Rick answered. “Deanna…she knew, Negan. She knew what was goin’ on with them. Didn’t step in because Pete’s a doctor and they need him.”

Negan hissed between his teeth, an angry sound. “That fucking-” He shook his head, gritting his teeth audibly. “Fuck that. These people don’t need shit from him. We got by just fine without a surgeon, and we were out _there_ , no walls to fucking protect us.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Rick agreed. “She doesn’t want us to kill him, though. She was pretty adamant about that. I suggested we separate them. Put him up in an empty house, have guards watch him.”

“Rick,” Negan said warily, “I don’t mean to shit all over your fucking plan here, sheriff, but what happens if he gets out of the house?”

“I know,” Rick sighed. “And I’m not sure. It’s not a permanent solution, not to me. Right now, I’m just wanting to get him out of that house before he does some real damage. After that, I’m gonna try to appeal to Deanna again. I’m hoping that if enough of us push for it, she’ll see that killing him is really the only way to go. We can…I don’t know, we can take a vote or have some kind of trial or something if it makes her feel better, like we’re doing it in a civilized way. But he can’t stay here.”

They approached the front porch and Rick reached out, squeezing Negan’s arm. “Get your gun. I’ve already got mine. I’ll wait out here.”

Negan disappeared into the house and reemerged a minute later, nodding deftly to Rick. “How do you wanna do this, sheriff?”

Rick leaned against the porch railing, thinking. “We go in easy. We want to keep it calm for as long as we can, keep your gun where he can’t see it. Don’t draw unless you absolutely have to. It’s gonna get physical, that’s inevitable- that’s why I asked for backup. We just need to get him out of the house, knock him out if we can, quick and easy. There’s an empty house down the street, we can take him there, tie him up, keep an eye on him until we figure out what to do next.”

Negan nodded solemnly. “You’re the fucking boss, Rick.”

They began walking across the street toward Jessie and Pete’s when they heard a muted crash from inside. They exchanged the briefest look before breaking into a run.

So much for going in easy.

Rick threw the front door open without a second thought- the sounds of shouting could be heard from the street now. He was glad Pete hadn’t been in the frame of mind to lock it- he didn’t mind breaking it down, but he’d prefer not to waste any time while Pete had free reign to do what he wanted.

They burst inside, the front door smacking the wall beside it. Rick took in the scene before him for a moment: Jessie, crumpled on the floor, her lip split and spilling blood down her chin. He could see the shadow of a bruise already forming around her left eye. Pete loomed over her, his face going slack for a moment as he registered that he wasn’t alone with his wife anymore.

And then his face contorted into a furious, mocking sneer. “What do you know, your little _boyfriend’s_ come to rescue you! That’s what you wanted, isn’t it, Jessie?” He shouted, shaking with rage. “I heard you talking to him in the garage- telling him _our_ business! What gives you the right, what give you the fucking _right_ -”

He kicked a booted foot out at Jessie then, and Rick and Negan both shot forward at once. Negan grabbed him from behind, arms tight around him, while Rick dove to the floor, helping Jessie to her feet. He could hear the sounds of Pete struggling against Negan behind him.

“Go, go upstairs, get Sam and get out of the house, you need to go!” He said urgently. She nodded, eyes red-rimmed, and then they blew wide.

“Rick!” She and Negan shouted at the same time, but not quick enough. Rick felt a sudden weight smack into him from behind as Pete broke loose from Negan’s hold and tackled him to the floor, the side of his head cracking against the hardwood. He felt the wind get knocked out of him, lungs struggling to suck in breath while Pete’s superior weight crushed against his back.

The blind panic struck him all at once, coming in from all sides. It was all too familiar, the pressing weight against his back, the dizzying smack of his skull against the floor. Nausea flooded him, and he bit back bile and bald fear, feeling his hands start to shake. He struggled, scrabbling at the floor, his ears ringing, and then the weight was off of him and he rolled over, watching as Negan threw Pete to the ground.

“Don’t you fucking touch him, don’t you fucking touch anyone, _you fucking piece of shit_ -!” Negan was screaming, fists flying between him and Pete. Rick scrambled to his feet just as Pete landed a solid blow to Negan’s temple that send him reeling back into the fireplace mantle. Pete was on his feet in an instant, advancing on Rick, and Rick acted without thinking, grabbing Pete by the collar of his shirt and shoving him back.

“Stay back, stay the fuck back! Just come with us, there’s no way out of this-” Pete elbowed him hard across the face, and Rick tasted blood. Rick shoved him back again with both hands, and when Pete drew back to throw another punch, he lunged, tackling the larger man straight through the front window and onto the porch.

Pete let out a cry of pain as his body went through the glass and landed on the shards, but that didn’t stop him from clocking Rick square across the nose. Rick pitched to the side, and Pete stumbled down the front steps and into the street, the back of his shirt shredded, blood running in rivulets from cuts on his face and arms.

Rick followed him down and then they were on the ground again, rolling around on the gravel and throwing vicious punches. Rick managed to get the upper hand for a moment and get on top, his knees digging into Pete’s sides as he landed blow after blow to the man’s face while Pete blindly struck out at him, catching him in the side of the head, the ribs, the jaw.

Rick’s hands went for Pete’s throat nearly of their own volition, fingers closing around his neck and squeezing, choking the life out of him. Pete wheezed, struggled, batted at his hands, and then bucked his hips, jostling Rick enough to get him on the ground and reverse their positions. His hands found Rick’s throat, digging in and mind Rick’s vision blur at the edges, and then suddenly Pete’s weight was gone again and Negan was locked in combat with him, shouting something that Rick could barely understand. He caught snippets of it though- _“Fucking worthless piece of shit-”, “-don’t deserve to fucking live-”, “-don’t ever fucking put your hands on him-”_

He wasn’t the only one shouting, Rick realized then- a sizable crowd had gathered, the likes of which included Deanna and Reg, Carl and Ron, all of whom were shouting things that Rick couldn’t hear over the rush of blood and adrenaline roaring through him.

He caught a glimpse of Jessie, who was holding a crying Sam to her chest.

Rick shoved off the ground and got to his feet. Pete was hitting Negan, Negan was shoving him back, keeping a firm hold of his shirt with torn knuckles, and Rick snapped. He reached under his jacket, pulling his stolen gun out from its hiding place and aiming it at Pete. He heard the collective gasp of shock from the onlookers, but he kept his eyes on Pete.

“You’re gonna want to step away from him now,” Rick said, surprised at how even his voice was. He hated that his hands were still shaking, but he didn’t need them to be steady to make the shot from this range. Pete stared down the barrel of the gun with a mixture of disgust and horror on his face.

“You gonna kill me, Rick?” He grinned then, sounding almost cocky.

“Rick!” Deanna’s voice filtered through the crowd and he turned to her, gun still trained on Pete. “Stop this!”

Rick didn’t lower the gun. “Or what?” He mused, “You gonna kick me out?”

“Put the gun down, Rick.”

“You don’t get it, none of you do!” Rick barked, “We know what needs to be done and we do it. We’re the ones who _live_! All of you, you want to hide, want to pretend. That way’s gonna get all of you killed. You want to live? You want this place to stay standing? Your way of doing things is _done_. Starting now, we live in the _real world_. We need to _control_ who lives here.” He jerked the gun at Pete, and Deanna’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s never been more clear to me than it is right now.”

Manic laughter bubbled up in Rick’s chest and he dropped his arm, wildly gesturing to himself as if in surprise. “Me…me?” He laughed, “You mean _me_? Your way is gonna get people _killed_ -”

All at once, a blinding force struck him from the side like a truck, and he was back on the ground, his gun skittering a few feet away to land in front of Reg. The crowd started in with the shouting again as Pete began his assault again, and then everything was chaos. Rick and Pete both lunged for the gun at once- Rick was faster, his fingers brushing it, but Pete kicked him sharply in the stomach and he recoiled, wracked with pain, and the taller man grabbed the gun, pointing it at Rick. For a horrifying moment, Rick’s blood ran cold, and all he could think was _this is it, this is fucking it_.

Pete was shoved sideways right before he pulled the trigger, and the gun fired inches from Rick’s head, deafening him with the resounding spark of metal on asphalt. He reeled back, dragging himself away in an attempt to get his bearings, and saw Reg and Negan struggling to wrestle the gun from Pete, hands grappling at the weapon.

Rick watched in frozen, muted horror as Negan reached for the gun- for one blessed second, he had it, and then Pete’s elbow met his face, and he was knocked back on his heels, blood pouring from his nose. Reg and Pete were locked in a struggle for barely a moment, but Pete managed to get the upper hand, fingers tightening around the trigger, and-

And Rick saw it just a second too late.

He shouted out a “No!” that didn’t reach his own ears, but it didn’t matter- the gun had already fired, the bullet ripping violently through Reg’s throat, a tide of crimson swallowing him and Pete. Deanna dove down to pull her husband into her arms, shouting, screaming, her face nearly the color of the stain spilling down the front of Reg’s crisp white shirt.

Rick saw the opportunity and took it. While Pete was still reeling from the shock and noise of the shot, Rick tackled him, he and Negan wrenching the gun- carefully this time- and out of his hands. Negan kept Pete pinned this time, and Michonne broke through the crowd suddenly, rushing forward to help keep him down.

Rick turned to Deanna, whose face was tearful and devestated- but resolute. Her hands were a wet, shiny red. Reg had stopped moving, laying silently in her arms, his lanky body pale and lifeless.

“Rick,” She said, her voice sorrowful, but clear and firm, “Do it.”

Rick’s fingers twitched around the gun in his hand. She didn’t have to tell him twice. Calmly, he turned to Pete, raising the gun once again. Negan and Michonne moved quickly out of the way, releasing him.

This time, Rick didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate. Pete’s face held a defiant but fearful rage, and Rick squeezed the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Romance is coming" "The slow burn will pay off" I say, 70k into a fic where they still haven't kissed...


	15. Chapter 15

It was Michonne and Rosita that half-dragged Negan and Rick out of the street after the fight. After the influx of adrenaline wore off, Rick found himself feeling woozy from all the blows to the head and nearly being choked out, and Negan wasn’t much better. As he leaned on Michonne and stumbled into the house, Rick was relieved to have a reason to escape the crowded scene on the road. After he’d shot Pete, Jessie and Sam had begun crying, clinging to each other brokenly and shaking with the force of their sobs. It was the right call, killing him- Rick knew that, didn’t doubt it for a second. And somewhere down the line- much like Carol after Ed had died- Jessie would likely be relieved that he was gone. But for now- for now, that was her husband, and that was Sam and Ron’s father, and no matter how much of a terrible person he may have been, it couldn’t be easy to see him gunned down in the street.

Rick didn’t feel guilty about killing him, he only regretted that he’d had to do it in front of them.

Carl trailed after them into the house, shutting the door as Michonne and Rosita dumped Rick and Negan onto the couch together. Rosita’s eyes flashed around the downstairs in search of something, settling on Carl when she didn’t find it. “Get me a first aid kit, will you? Is there one in here?”

Carl shook his head, and Rosita nodded to the door. “Can you run over to the infirmary and get one, then? Or just some bandage strips and antiseptic?” She looked them both over, nudging their faces from side to side to inspect the damage. “It doesn’t look like they need any stitches.”

Carl ducked out and Rosita got to cleaning up the wounds on their faces while Rick and Negan dabbed at the cuts they could see on their arms and knuckles. Michonne eyed them watchfully from her place on the arm of the couch, her face unreadable. She seemed tense, and it took Rick a second to register why- the _gun_. The stolen gun that he’d taken and not told her about.

Shit.

Carl returned a minute later, handing over the bandages to Rosita so she could patch them up. She was using a lot, Rick thought- how badly was his face mangled? Negan didn’t look great- there was a smattering of purple and green bruises from his left eye all the way over the bridge of his nose, and then another red mark on his jaw, obscured slightly by stubble. There were a handful of shallow cuts on Negan’s face and arms, but judging from how much longer it was taking to tend to Rick, he definitely seemed to have gotten the worst of it. Probably had something to do with him tackling Pete through the window.

Rosita leaned back after a few minutes, observing her handiwork. “Good thing we have people that know first aid since the doctor turned out to be a fucking prick, huh?” She mused. “Keep those clean. None of them are too deep, you should both be healed up in a few days. Anything else that needs to be looked at?”

Rick prodded at his sore ribs- the pain that flared there was dull, nothing to worry about. “I don’t think so. Just bruised up.”

Negan nodded, rubbing at his reddened jaw. “Same here. Thanks.”

Rosita nodded and waved on her way out the door. “No problem, boys.”

And then they were alone with Michonne and Carl’s worried stares.

“Where’d you get the gun, Rick?” Michonne prompted. She didn’t seem particularly angry, but it was possible she was just keeping a lid on it for Carl’s sake.

No point in lying now, and he really didn’t like keeping things from her in the first place. “I, ah. I stole it. From the armory.” He winced. “Well, technically, Carol stole it. But I was the one who asked her to.”

Michonne’s eyes flicked between him and Negan. “So Carol’s in on this, too. Does she have a gun? Does Negan?”

Rick sighed. “Yeah. Daryl, too.”

“What the hell, dad?” Carl interjected angrily. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you trust me to have one?”

“Carl, I didn’t-”

Michonne put a calming hand on Carl’s shoulder in an attempt to quell his anger. “It’s a fair question, Rick. Why didn’t you tell us?”

Negan drew a breath as if to speak, but Rick waved him down. It was his call to keep the guns between him and the people he’d chosen. Michonne and Carl deserved an explanation from him. “I thought…I was scared you wouldn’t back me up.” He admitted, meeting Michonne’s eyes with sincerity and remorse. “You wanted this place so badly, you needed it… I was worried you’d try to talk me out of it. And I needed that gun, Michonne. You saw it today, I needed it to deal with Pete.”

Michonne’s frown deepened. “Reg died because of that gun, Rick. It may have been Pete who pulled the trigger, but if you hadn’t had it…I don’t know if Deanna will overlook that.”

“Pete was fucking dangerous,” Negan interjected suddenly. “He didn’t care that Reg died in the crossfire, and he was aiming to kill Rick when he was choking him. He would have killed Jessie eventually, would have crossed that line, and then what? We should have just let him go so he could sneak back in?”

Michonne shook her head. “I’m not arguing that. But once the smoke clears from this, I think Deanna’s gonna be asking why you had that gun, Rick. And she’s going to be thinking about how if you _hadn’t_ had that gun, Reg wouldn’t be dead.” She sighed. “This is coming out wrong. I’m not- I’m not blaming you, Rick. I know that if you’d been allowed to handle the situation your way, nobody else would have gotten hurt- that was all Pete. I understand why you took the gun- or I’m trying to, at least. I’m not happy you didn’t tell me, but I can understand why you did it, I think. I’m just scared for you. You’re acting- I don’t know. Paranoid. Jumpy. Your little spiel in the street about their way being over- you’re putting a target on your back with these people.”

“And why didn’t you tell _me_?” Carl asked, sounding younger and more childlike than he had in a long while.

“Because I wanted this place for you, Carl,” Rick implored Carl to see his reasoning, needed him to understand that he and Michonne’s exclusion hadn’t been a personal slight. “I still do, even now. I want you to have a life here, to have a chance.”

Carl’s scowl persisted. “You could have told me. You should have.”

Rick sighed, and Michonne squeezed Carl’s shoulder. “Carl, can you give me and your dad a minute to talk?” She glanced at Negan as well, and he nodded, easing up off the couch.

“No problem. C’mon, kid. Come help me with your sister, it’s about time for her to eat, isn’t it?”

Carl didn’t look thrilled at being booted from the conversation, but he seemed to begrudgingly accept it since Negan was leaving as well. Negan grabbed the baby food from the pantry and the two of them headed upstairs. When Rick heard the door to Judith’s room close, Michonne turned to him again.

“What’s going on, Rick?”

Rick blinked, startled by her scrutinizing gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s going on with you? This- rambling in the streets and waving a gun around when there’s civilians nearby…this isn’t you. If Pete hadn’t tackled you, I was about to grab you and drag you out of there myself. Knock you out if I had to. Not for _them_ , for _you_.” She looked concerned, her brows knitting together. “I know you’ve been…on edge, since Terminus. And I get that, we were all there, but Rick...this is extreme. When I first noticed how you were acting, I didn’t want to bring it up, wasn’t sure if I was just blowing things out of proportion, but this? Stealing the guns and then keeping it from the rest of us? That’s not the Rick I know. So I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“You telling me you have no problem trusting these people? That you don’t wish you had something to protect yourself with? You don’t miss your sword?” Rick asked.

Michonne shook her head. “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t come in with my doubts, but…if they were going to attack us, they would have done it by now, Rick. Deanna just asked you to kill one of her own, let you walk away after. And about the sword,” her face was open and earnest, “I miss my _son_. I miss what was before all this. I miss Andrea. But I don’t miss that sword. I don’t miss having to look over my shoulder every second. Are you trying to tell me you stole a gun because you _miss_ it?”

Rick looked down at his hands. “I want to trust them, Michonne. I want to stop looking over my shoulder, I want to fall asleep at night without waking up every half hour. But I can’t.”

“Why?” Michonne reached out, offering a hand, and Rick took it. She brushed her thumb lightly over his gauze-wrapped knuckles, avoiding the spots that were dark with drying blood. “I told you a while back that I noticed that you weren’t okay,” she said softly. “I didn’t push because I thought you’d tell me when you were ready. But I’m thinking that maybe you need me to ask. So I’m asking. What’s wrong?”

Rick watched her fingers moving over his, a lump in his throat blocking the words. He hadn’t had to say it in so long, had never said it aloud after the initial night he’d broken down in front of Negan. It felt harder now, somehow, after burying it for a month. He kept trying to lay it to rest every night, digging a shallow grave with his hands soaked in dirt. Like the dead outside, it kept crawling to the surface, decaying and ragged but still inflicting pain.

The words tumbled out of his mouth, as if his body couldn’t stand to keep them any longer. “I was raped. At Terminus. When they- when they dragged me and the others out of the train car, they had us lined up at this trough with some other men. They were going to slit our throats, have us bleed out. The leader- he came in before it started, pulled me aside. Had me tied up and- and he-”

He couldn’t get anything past that out, felt the shameful burn of tears behind his eyes. Saying it now, he couldn’t help but wonder why it was affecting him so strongly, after everything he’d been through. He worried for a split second that Michonne would see it that way- that his explanation wasn’t enough justification for how he’d been acting. Michonne’s fingers had stopped moving while he spoke, her hand resting lightly atop his like she was stunned.

And then he watched as she laced her fingers together with his own, squeezing just hard enough for pain to spring from his bloodied knuckles.

He didn’t mind. It was a good kind of pain.

“Rick, I…” She started, and he forced himself to raise his head and look at her. She didn’t have pity in her eyes, and for that he was grateful. Now that the words were out of him, he felt like a burden had been lifted, ever so slightly. His eyes still burned a little, but he squeezed her hand back. The corner of her mouth turned up a little when their eyes met, and she smiled- a little sad, but it comforted him nonetheless. “I’m so sorry, Rick. Have you told anyone else? Have you talked about this to someone?”

“Yeah.”

He was about to tell her, but somehow she already knew. “Negan,” she said, nodding, like a mystery had been explained. “When?”

“That first night when we were staying in the church.” Rick said. “I didn’t mean to, it just- he was just there. It just came out.” He regretted his phrasing immediately- that made it sound like it was a mistake, like he regretted confiding in Negan. “I’m glad I did,” He clarified. “He’s been good to me. He’s helped me. I wasn’t sure about him, when he first came in, but now- now I can’t picture myself without him. Not just because of this. But because we just…work together.” It seemed such a massive understatement- that they _worked well_ together. He hated that he was fumbling his words, because it suddenly seemed extremely important that he get them right- that he said them aloud. “He and I, we…” they _what_ , he thought? Why couldn’t he find the words to describe what Negan was to him, what he felt for the other man? “I don’t know what we are. We’re…something.”

Michonne smiled at that, her face understanding in a way that he couldn’t grasp. How she could understand what he meant when _he_ didn’t was beyond him. “I know what you mean. I know. I’m glad you have him. You deserve to be happy, Rick. We all do- it took me a long time to realize that about myself. After I lost my son…” she bit her lip, “it took me a long time to feel like I was supposed to be happy again. Like I was _allowed_. But Andrea, she found me. I found her out there, and I helped her, but she saved me. She saved me in a lot of ways. And I didn’t just love her because she saved me, but that was part of it.”

Rick blinked. _Love…_

Michonne released his hand. “Thank you, Rick. For telling me. For trusting me. And just so you know…I’m with you. I trust you. I want this place, Rick- we all need it, but I’m with you before I’m with them.”

Rick breathed, feeling lighter. “Thank you.”

* * *

Negan and Carl ambled back downstairs, Judith in tow, when they heard a knock at the door. Upon seeing that it was Deanna Rick was letting into the foyer, he felt his nerves flare to life- Michonne’s words about Deanna possibly blaming Rick for Reg’s death once the smoke cleared weighed on his mind, and after the day Rick had, the last thing he needed was someone shouting at him and threatening to kick him out. Negan passed Judith off to Carl and came up beside Rick, a soldier ready to fight for him if necessary. He’d never thought himself the loyal guard dog type, but his allegiance to Rick seemed to have softened his usual watch-out-for-number-one outlook that he’d adopted early on in the apocalypse.

He’d love to say he wasn’t sure what that meant, but if he was being completely honest with himself- he did. There was really no hiding it from himself. Hell, if Carl had picked up on it, there was no hiding it from other people, either. He wondered how long it would be until Rick put the pieces together as well.

Deanna’s eyes were red-rimmed and weary as she looked up at them- she was such a tiny woman, Negan thought, but her presence was so strong that she seemed to nearly tower over them at times. She must have washed herself up a bit before coming over- she’d changed out of her bloodstained clothes and wiped away most of the crimson stain from her skin. There were a few stray flecks clinging to her cheek like a parting kiss.

“I imagine you know why I’m here.” She said, and Rick nodded.

“You want to know why I had a gun.” Negan noticed how Michonne lingered a couple feet back- making it look like they weren’t ganging up on a grieving Deanna, but still coiled and ready to defend Rick if need be. He _knew_ he was right in telling Rick that she would back him up about the guns.

Deanna nodded solemnly. “I do. I want to know where you got it and how you got it and if anyone else has one.”

Unthinkingly, Negan jumped in immediately with a smooth lie. “Found it outside the wall. We kept in in case of emergency.” Better to let her think there was just one- really, there was no need for her to know about the one he had stashed in the back of his jeans at the moment, or the ones Carol and Daryl had.

There was a moment of tense silence before Deanna turned to Rick, looking like she didn’t believe Negan in the least. “Is that true, Rick?” Her voice was that of a parent confronting a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

Rick sighed. “No. I did stash a gun outside the wall before we got here, but it’s gone. Don’t know where it is, someone must have found it. I stole the gun from the armory. Left a window unlocked and snuck inside after Olivia left for the day.”

Deanna looked satisfied with that answer, and Negan had to hand it to Rick- admitting a partial truth to make himself seem trustworthy again was fucking smart. “Why?”

“Because,” Rick said, the barest glimmer of frustration wearing through the patience in his voice, “It’s like I’ve been telling you since we got here- we need to be armed within the walls. The people here- _all_ of them, not just the ones that go out to scavenge- they need to be trained on how to defend themselves properly. You haven’t been out there, and there’s no amount of stories I could tell to make you understand why I feel like I need this gun. I’m not doin’ this out of some selfish desire to take over this place, Deanna. This is for my family. Because I spent all that time out there, looking over my shoulder, knowin’ that if I let myself slip, even for a moment, that could mean my life, the lives of my children, the lives of my family. And these people? They’re my family, all of them. I can’t just let all of it go because we’re here.”

Deanna gazed up at Rick, seeming to consider his words. Negan held his breath, praying that by some small mercy she’d understand. Rick’s face was open, imploring- fierce, but utterly sincere.

“Reg…” Deanna started sorrowfully, “If you hadn’t taken that gun, Reg would still be here.”

Rick looked pained. “I know. I know that, and believe me, if I could go back and do it different, I would. But I’d still take the gun. Pete needed to die, Deanna. I know you saw that. And not just because of Reg- if he hadn’t been stopped, he would have killed Jessie. Would have moved on to her kids, created two sad, unstable boys- if he didn’t kill them, too. Men like him? They don’t belong in this world anymore. There’s no place for them. He didn’t stop after Reg died, and he wouldn’t have stopped after Jessie died, either.”

“I know that,” Deanna said. “I know. But you see how this puts me in a difficult position, Rick.”

“I don’t,” Rick argued. “This can be taken as a lesson to everyone involved- there are times when violence is necessary, when killing is necessary. The people here don’t understand that- but you do now. You saw it, you asked me to do it. This place is going to change, Deanna. You said you wanted it to grow, and this is the beginning of that. We’re going to get stronger here, and we can’t do that by pretending that the only threat to us is the dead. From what I’ve seen, people are the real monsters. They always have been.”

Deanna looked very nearly happy for a moment, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “ _We_ ,” She mused. “You want to protect this community, Rick. I see that. I may not always agree with how you want to do it, but I see this for what it was- you protecting your own. You and Negan defended Jessie like she was one of your own people.”

Michonne appeared beside Negan. “Because she is. All of these people, they’re our people now. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Deanna smiled a small but genuine smile then. “Yes. Yes, it was.”

* * *

The three of them left shortly after Deanna did, cautiously stepping out into the street to help with the burial. Deanna’s sons carried Reg’s sheet-wrapped body to the small cemetery beside the church, a single grave having already been dug. Jessie, Ron, and Sam were noticeably absent from the proceedings. Rick blinked at Deanna, confused. “There’s only one grave.”

“We don’t bury murderers here.” She answered simply, and Rick understood that- she didn’t want the reminder of Pete lingering when she wanted to visit her husband’s grave.

“So where are you burying Pete?” Rick asked.

Deanna shrugged. “Beyond the wall.”

Rick bit his lip, remembering Ron’s ashen face and Jessie and Sam’s tears. He didn’t want Pete’s body within the walls, either, but it seemed almost cruel to dispose of him without consulting his family.

“We should ask Jessie,” Michonne said quietly from beside him. “We should let her choose. Give her the option of burying him here- not in the cemetery,” she amended, seeing the disgust on both Deanna and Negan’s faces. “Just within the walls. She has a backyard. She may not want him here, but we need to give her and her kids the option. It’s not about respecting Pete- it’s about respecting them. They’ve been through a lot, and dumping his body without telling them could just make it worse. They’re grieving.”

“They’re grieving a sick fucking bastard,” Negan muttered as they watched Reg’s body be lowered into the ground.

Rick thought of Shane suddenly- of how quickly he’d died, of the way that his body had been left to rot in the field where Rick had killed him. He hadn’t had time to bury him, was too preoccupied with Hershel’s farm being overrun by walkers to think about it, but he considered it now. Even with everything Shane had done, even if he’d gotten what he deserved- would Rick have still buried him, if he’d had the chance?

“You’re right,” He said finally, “You’re right. We’ll ask them. Give them the option, at least.”

“Not you,” Michonne said. “You’re probably not who they need to see right now. I’ll ask. I’ll talk to her.”

After Reg’s funeral, the crowd dissipated from the graveyard quickly, Deanna escorted away by her sons, Michonne grabbing Maggie and heading off to talk to Jessie. Negan lingered by Rick’s side, their fingers having laced together as some point during the funeral- Rick hadn’t even realized when it happened, the touch so gentle and natural that it didn’t draw attention to itself.

“Let’s go home, Rick,” Negan said gently. “You’ve had a rough fucking day. Come on. I’ll make you and the kiddos some dinner.”

Rick leaned heavily into Negan’s side, his temple pressed into Negan’s shoulder, warm and stable and comforting. “Okay.”

* * *

When Negan said he’d make them dinner, Rick had expected something simple- cracking open a couple cans of beans and mixed vegetables, maybe even throw them together in a Carol-style casserole if he was lucky. Rick conked out on the couch as soon as they got home, exhausted from the day’s events, and woke up an hour later to Negan shaking his shoulder.

“C’mon, Rick. I fucking made spaghetti, just for you.” Rick sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, empty stomach growling with interest.

“Spaghetti?”

“Yeah. Now get your ass up. The kids are already at the table. It’s good, I promise. I’m pretty damn sure it’s what made Lucille fall in love with me- can’t resist my special sauce.” He cracked a devilish grin and Rick felt his cheeks heat up.

“R-right,” He stuttered, willing the flush to disappear. Maybe it wasn’t as noticeable under all the bandages? He could only hope. He seated himself at the table across from Negan and dug in, eyes going wide at the first heaping forkful of spaghetti. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten something that tasted like this. Negan watched him, eyes shining with delight.

“Good, right?”

Rick nodded vigorously, swallowing a mouthful. “ _Really_ good. You weren’t kidding.”

Negan chuckled and dug in. “I don’t joke about my cooking skills, Rick.”

Maggie showed up at their door right as they finished dinner and Negan and Carl were taking care of the dishes. She smiled at Rick as she stepped inside, taking in the cozy scene in the kitchen- Carl washing, Negan drying, and Judith puttering around underfoot, banging away at an empty pot with a ladle. “Looks like you had a nice family dinner,” she said, a knowing smile on her lips. She gave a friendly wave to Negan and Carl. “Michonne and I talked to Jessie. She wasn’t sure at first, but she decided she wants Pete buried outside the walls. We’re gonna take her and the kids out there tomorrow and bury him. I just wanted to let you know.”

Silently, Rick was glad that Pete wouldn’t be buried in Alexandria, but he decided to keep that to himself. “Good. Thank you. How are they? Her and Sam and Ron, how are they dealing with it?”

Maggie shook her head sadly. “They’ve been better. You can tell Sam doesn’t know how to deal with it. Jessie’s strong- stronger than we gave her credit for, I think. She’s grieving, but…I think she knows that it’s what had to happen. Or, at least, she’ll get there one day, you know? Not gonna say she’s okay, ‘cause she’s not, but she will be. Ron’s real messed up over it, angry. He’s at that age, I guess,” Maggie worried her lip between her teeth. “Doesn’t know how to deal with grief like this, doesn’t feel like he can be sad. I remember when my brother, Shawn, was that age.” There was a flicker of grief on her face at that- Maggie so rarely talked about the family members she’d lost- even Hershel. It was just how she was, Rick came to realize- she grieved quietly, with dignity and determination, and used her sorrow to fuel her love for the family she had left. Rick squeezed her shoulder, the gesture easy for him- that was something he never wanted to take for granted again.

“Thank you,” He repeated, meaning it deeply.

“It’s no problem, Rick. I’m happy to do my part.” Judith banged out a particularly loud note on her makeshift drum, and she grinned broadly. “Looks like you’re all settling in pretty well.”

“We are,” Rick said, realizing it was true. Carl and Judith both seemed so much happier here, more full of life. “What about you? Heard that you’re losing your mind tryin’ to keep an eye on Beth and Noah.”

Maggie gave an exasperated sigh, but her annoyance was undercut by the joyful twinkle in her eyes. “ _Teenagers_ ,” she groaned, “Can’t keep their hands off each other.”

“They’re hardly teenagers,” Rick reminded her. “They’re adults. They’re young, but…they’re still adults. You weren’t that much older than her when you met Glenn.”

Maggie shook her head in amazement. “I know. It’s so strange to think that she’s all grown up. I guess it’s just ‘cause I feel so old, you know?” She laughed at herself.

“Can’t imagine how old that makes me,” Rick joked.

“You’re as old as you feel, Rick,” Maggie said, voice gentle as a breeze. “Sometimes, when I’m chasin’ down Beth and Noah, I feel about sixty. When I’m with Glenn…I feel like I’m sixteen again. Love has a way of doing that, I guess.” She was looking at him with an odd curiosity. “You know what I mean?”

Immediately and without warning, Rick’s mind flashed back to that morning, to himself and Negan in bed, sharing a pillow with their bodies pressed close. He thought about how loudly his heart had been beating when Negan had looked at him- the rapid thunder of blood in his veins terrifying and thrilling him.

He recalled the thought that had crossed his mind- the ridiculous, childish, impulsive thought that he’d been seconds away from acting on: _kiss him_.

“Yeah,” Rick said softly, “I know what you mean.”

* * *

That night, after Judith had been tucked into her crib and Carl was holed up in his room with a stack of comics, Rick caught Negan’s wrist on his way down the stairs.

“Can you- can we…?” He trailed off, suddenly too shy to ask. Negan knew, though.

“Can you sleep with me again tonight?” His dark eyes were deep and fathomless, warm and safe even in their depths. The words were suggestive, but for once Negan didn’t take them there, just let them mean exactly what they meant and nothing more.

“Yes,” Rick breathed. “But…I was wondering if we could share my bed instead. To be closer to the kids. Just in case.”

He knew it was probably bordering on ridiculous to still be so overprotective at this point, especially since they now had a gun to keep them safe, but Negan didn’t mock him for it. Instead, he nodded understandingly, stroking Rick’s hair away from his face. “Of course, Rick. Whatever you want.”

They crossed the threshold of Rick’s bedroom, Rick’s fingers still tight around Negan’s wrist. He noticed that Negan turned away when he started pulling his clothes off and he wondered if it was out of respect for his boundaries or because he had no interest in watching Rick undress.

The question weighed on his mind a little more than it should.

They brushed their teeth next to each other, sharing the sink, boxer-clad hips bumping. Rick caught sight of his face in the mirror for the first time since the fight and sucked in a harsh breath. Bruises bloomed along the line of his jaw, the short stubble there doing nothing to mask it. Even darker bruises formed a purple ring around his throat, and he bushed a finger across them, remembering the fear that had pulsed through him at the feeling of hands squeezing him there. There was an array of cuts across his face- on his cheeks, his forehead, one under his eye. His lower lip was still split and swollen, though it didn’t hurt much when he prodded it with his tongue.

“You alright?” Negan asked, turning to him. He used two fingers to tip Rick’s chin up and look his face over, eyes haggard with worry. “Your pretty face is beat to hell. If Pete wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him all over again for fucking touching you.”

“I’m okay,” Rick breathed, chest tight. Negan’s words were so fiercely sincere, it was nearly startling. “Just…didn’t realize how bad I looked.”

Frown lines cut deep into Negan’s face. “You don’t look bad.”

Rick snorted and dipped his head to spit toothpaste foam into the sink. “I look like hell, you said it yourself.” He teased, padding out of the bathroom and taking a seat on the edge of the bed, watching as Negan rinsed the sink out and followed him. He sank down on the bed beside Rick, cupping the side of his face gently, thumbing carefully over the bruises on his jaw. “I said you’re beat to hell. Never said you look like hell. In fact, I think I may have said something about your face being pretty.”

Rick snorted and pulled away, feeling his cheeks grow warm again. “Shut up.”

Negan pulled him back, one hand curled around the curve of his neck, a gesture both tentative and insistent all at once. “I fucking mean it, Rick. You’re beautiful. Takes more than a couple cuts to fuck that up.” Negan looked tense as he said it, like he was under some kind of strain, the words cautious and weighted. Rick noticed himself leaning a little more into the touch, turning his face into the warmth of Negan’s hand. His lips brushed Negan’s palm, the light touch reminding him of the way Negan had kissed his forehead in the kitchen before.

Negan’s breathing quickened, noticeable in the bare space between them. He moved in closer, and then there were lips against one of the cuts on Rick’s cheek, and Rick felt his breathing stop completely, caught in his lungs and unable to escape. “You’re fucking perfect, Rick.” Negan pressed gentle kisses to the cuts on his face, to the bruise on his jaw. By the time Rick felt him mouthing at the tender skin of his neck, he could feel himself trembling, fingertips digging into Negan’s arms. “ _Gorgeous…_ ” The word was a ghosting of warm air against Rick’s throat, and when Negan pulled away, his face was a flushed as Rick was sure his own was.

Rick didn’t have to make the choice to close the slip of space between them- it was inevitable, he thought. What was always going to happen, what had been set in place since that morning. Longer, even.

It had been so long since he’d tasted someone, so maybe that was why Negan was like honey against his lips.

Negan let him lead- he noticed that immediately. He let Rick take complete control, let him explore with quick, darting kisses that tested the water. He let Rick decide when to deepen it, groaning softly when he did, their mouths moving slow and supple against each other. Rick licked into his mouth, the kiss growing wet, and Negan responded then, pulling Rick closer to himself, kissing at his swollen lower lip while Rick panted against him. _So good_ , Rick thought, because his mind was too caught up to produce anything better. _So, so good_. The wet slide of their mouths, the stuttering of their intermingling breaths, the way Negan’s hands wove into his hair, the slight throbbing pain from the split in his lower lip as it was gently abused- he loved it all.

The only reason he was finally able to draw himself back from Negan was that he felt dizzy with the rush of it all. Negan was wide eyed, his lips pink and wet and inviting, parted ever so slightly. “ _Goddamn_.”

Rick forced himself to breathe, trying to find some kind of steady footing. He opened and closed his mouth, floundering with his words, unsure of what to say, unsure if there was anything more _to_ say.

Negan just stared at him, looking very nearly awestruck, before laying back and patting the bed beside him, inviting Rick in close. Rick squirmed underneath the covers, drawing Negan back to him with a hand on the side of his neck, and then they were kissing again, Negan’s hands warm and steady on Rick’s waist as they both grew breathless. Negan’s mouth wandered sweetly, kissing the corners of Rick’s mouth, his nose, his temple, coming to rest on Rick’s forehead for a lingering second before tucking Rick against his chest. Rick sighed contentedly, his body curling around Negan’s. _I could fall asleep just like this_ , he thought blissfully.

So he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is now my longest fic! Don't know how that happened as this was supposed to be pretty short and more of a collection of somewhat one-shotty chapters with lots of time skips, but here we are. 
> 
> Also, I managed to actually get this updated in a week rather than 8-10 days, yay!

Rick sighed and nuzzled into Negan’s shoulder, not quite ready to open his eyes and admit that it was morning yet. Negan seemed to be of the same mind- he felt the older man shift in his arms, grunting sleepily and tugging Rick closer into his chest. “Mm,” he grumbled, “you awake, darlin’?” He asked, warm hands gliding over Rick’s shoulders.

“I gotta be?” Rick joked. He was hoping to have a slow morning- just the slight movement to curve his body around Negan’s had struck him with a weary achiness, and he would be nothing short of surprised if he didn’t find himself covered in bruises during his shower. _That's what you get for tackling a grown man through a window and then brawling in the street_ , he chided himself. Still, bruises or no bruises, he didn't regret it.

“Nah, stay,” Negan said, and Rick felt lips against his forehead, making his stomach flutter. Fingers found his chin, tilting his face up, and he opened his eyes, met with the sight of Negan’s warm hazel eyes gazing down at him. Affection painted their depths, warming Rick. “Can I kiss you, Rick?” Negan asked, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Yes,” Rick breathed, squirming impossibly closer, already craving the other man's touch. “Yes, please.”

Negan chuckled, cupping Rick’s face in his palm. “You don’t gotta say please, baby,” he crooned, leaning in. “But I sure as hell don’t mind it.” And then Negan’s lips were on his, soft and warm, and Rick felt like he was suspended in time, weightless and free. Negan had this gentle, easy way of kissing him that made him feel precious and wanted. Warmth spread through him, and his hands roamed up Negan’s back, scratching over smooth skin. Negan made a noise then- something quiet and throaty and utterly involuntary, and Rick felt his whole body flush hotly at the sound of something so pleasure-filled. He nipped at Negan’s lower lip, worrying it gently with his teeth, wanting to see it swollen and pink when they finally pulled away from each other.

And it was. Rick caught sight of it, along with a distinct pink tinge to Negan’s cheeks when Negan drew back to gaze at him with adoration in his eyes. “Can’t believe how fucking lucky I am to wake up next to someone so beautiful,” Negan breathed, and Rick ducked his head back into Negan’s chest to hide his pleased smile.

“What time’s it?” He asked, his words still thick and sluggish with sleep.

Negan twined his fingers into the soft curls at the nape of Rick’s neck, stroking. He seemed to like playing with Rick's hair- it was getting really long, and Rick idly wondered if he should have taken Jessie up on her offer for a haircut. Then again, he really enjoyed the feeling of Negan's fingers stroking through it, gently unknotting tangles. “Don’t ask me, baby. You’re the one with the watch. You got somewhere to be so soon?”

Rick snorted and rolled over to grope for his watch on the nightstand, cringing at the painful twinge that accompanied the stretch. “Gotta do my first patrol at some point, yeah. And Michonne and I are gonna go talk to Deanna. About startin’ in on gun training the people here.” The watch read just past eight. Judith would probably be up soon.

“You think she’ll go for it? Negan asked curiously, peppering kisses to Rick's shoulder though his thin shirt. “You know I’m all fucking for it, Rick. These people need to get their shit to-fucking-gether. Shocked the hell outta me to hear from the other people on construction that they’re some of the only ones that have any kind of experience killing the dead. How the hell they’ve gotten so lucky is just fuckin’ insane to me.”

“I know,” Rick agreed, rolling back into Negan’s arms. “We’re gonna take care of that, though. We’ve got to. It’s only a matter of time before their luck runs out.”

Negan hummed in agreement, then in displeasure when Rick sat up and stretched. “You gotta leave so soon?”

Rick threw a pillow at him and stepped into the hallway. “Gotta get Judith. And don’t you have construction duty today?”

Negan grunted, forcing himself out of bed. He swept into Rick’s space, one hand curling around his waist to tug him close again, and Rick’s breath hitched. “One for the road then, baby?”

Rick laughed softly and leaned up to press their lips together. Negan wrapped him in his arms, a tender embrace to contrast from the way their bodies leaned heavily into the wooden doorframe. Rick licked into Negan’s mouth, arms coming up to clutch at Negan’s shirt, getting lost in the delicious, dizzying fog of being kissed. He was too distracted to notice the door opening across from them until he heard a startled noise that made he and Negan reluctantly break apart.

Carl blinked at them from his doorway, looking dazed. Rick scrambled to find the words to explain himself, but Carl just rubbed a hand through his bedhead, unbothered. “I told you that you were being stupid by not telling him,” Carl said pointedly to Negan. “Is it time for breakfast?”

Negan snorted and they watched Carl amble down the stairs. Rick gave Negan a sly grin and bumped him with his hip. "Tell me what?"

A flush crawled over Negan's face, but his answer was straightforward, devastatingly honest. "Tell you how much I fucking like you, Rick."

Rick grinned, kissing him on the cheek. "I fucking like you too, Negan." He teased, and Negan's eyes danced with mirth. 

"Oh, baby, I really fuckin' love it when you swear like that. Gives me fuckin' chills."

Rick rolled his eyes and shoved his arm, smiling despite himself. "Shut up. Go help Carl with breakfast." 

* * *

Rick couldn’t help but notice the distinctly unfriendly looks that Deanna’s sons, Aiden and Spencer, shot him when he and Michonne joined Deanna in her living room. They hovered like watchful bodyguards- which Rick though was a little ironic, considering what he’d heard about them from Glenn. According to him, Aiden and Spencer- like most of the people in Alexandria- were ill-prepared for dealing with walkers. They could take down a couple when they went out on runs, sure, but they were reckless and arrogant, treating it like a game. Rick got the distinct impression that Deanna would be about as well-off on her own as she was with them. Proper training or not, the woman had a tenacity and a well-guarded ferocity that would serve her well if she focused it properly. Rick made a note to offer to train her himself, if she wanted. 

Deanna picked up on her son’s hostility immediately, shooing them from the room when she entered. “This is between me, Michonne, and Rick. You both have a run today, anyway. You can get going now.”

They left obediently, and Rick felt some of the tension in his shoulders go out the door with them. Deanna took a seat and gestured for Rick and Michonne to do the same on the couch across from her.

“I’m just gonna cut right to the chase here, you two. We all know what we’re here to talk about, and I want you to make your case.”

Good. No need for unnecessarily beating around the bush, Rick like that. “We need to be armed within the walls, or at least have the option to be armed if we want to be,” Rick began. “I’m not saying to distribute the whole armory, that’s not necessary, but the people who know how to use weapons should be able to check out a gun and keep it on them if they see fit. You’ve been lucky here- you haven’t seen how bad it can get out there, and not just from walkers. _People_.” The looming threat of the undead was never far away, sure, but ever since the Governor, ever since Terminus…Rick knew that people were much more of a threat.

Deanna looked pensive. “People who know how to use weapons…you mean your people?” The statement was right on the edge of accusatory, but luckily Michonne was quick to jump in.

“We mean anyone who knows how to use a weapon. Aaron, Eric, your runners. I saw three people being let in the front gate today- Eugene told me they were a team that goes on long-term runs- Heath, Annie, and Scott? They must know how to handle themselves.”

“They do,” Deanna agreed.

“And we want to start training everyone here,” She added. “Nobody needs to be left defenseless. I know there are kids here, elderly people, and they don’t necessarily have to start shooting, but for everyone able-bodied, basic training is a necessity.”

Deanna frowned. “I just don’t see why- if we have a good group of fighters- why everyone needs to be trained. The majority of the people here have no plans to venture beyond the walls.”

Rick snorted. “They may not be planning on going outside the wall, but what if there’s a break? What if the gate gets left open?”

“It won’t. There won’t be. The wall will hold. We have people to watch the gate,” Deanna insisted.

“It might for a while,” Rick agreed, “But everything breaks down eventually, and even if we’re routinely able to patch it- we need to be prepared for the possibility that these walls won’t always keep us safe. And we’re just talking about walkers right now. If people attack, that’s a whole different animal, and they’re not going to have as much trouble getting past a wall.”

“That’s what the lookouts are for,” Deanna argued.

“And if something gets by them? If people slip in between shift changes or in a blind spot- what then? And if there’s a whole group of people, one or two lookouts won’t stand a chance.” Michonne pointed out. “This is a big place, and we can do our best to keep people out, but we can’t rely on that. We need to be prepared for the worst.”

Deanna’s eyes flicked between the two of them, contemplative and thoughtful. Rick really, truly hoped that she would come around on her own without them having to go behind her back- but he would do that if necessary. He was willing to risk Deanna’s wrath if it meant getting more of the people here trained. He knew that, with a place as safe and desirable as Alexandria, eventually other people would come knocking. It was only a matter of time before someone saw what they had and decided to take it by force.

 _Just let them try,_ Rick thought grimly.

“Okay,” Deanna said after a long, pensive silence. The affirmative answer was so easily won that Rick almost started arguing his point again, opening and closing his mouth for a brief moment before nodding.

“Great. That’s really great to hear, Deanna,” he said. We can get started right away- with the people who really want to learn, but eventually we’d like to work with everyone. If you want to learn, and I think you should, one of us can train you.”

Deanna gave a rueful nod. “I never thought the day would come where I would agree to something like this, but…” she shook her head, smiling to herself. “I guess it’s hardly the strangest thing to happen these days, is it?”

* * *

“So did you and Maggie deal with burying Pete yet?”

Michonne nodded as they walked in tandem around the perimeter of the wall, checking blind spots that the watchtower guards couldn’t see. “Yeah. This morning. It…wasn’t much of a funeral. No tearful goodbyes or anything, we just...did it. I think that after the smoke cleared yesterday, Jessie realized that it needed to happen. Ron’s still angry, and Sam…I don’t know about Sam. I asked Jessie and Carol about him, and he’s just got a lot of fear in him. Took Jessie twenty minutes of pleading to get him to come outside the wall with us. But that’s not new,” She reassured Rick, seeing his worried look. “Jessie said he’s always been like that, to some degree. It gets worse sometimes, and he’s really scared of the walkers. I’d say that he should learn how to deal with them, but he’s young, and, if I’m being honest, I don’t know how I feel putting a gun in the hands of a scared little kid like that.”

“No,” Rick agreed, “No, we can wait with him. But Jessie and Ron need to be trained, especially if Sam’s scared. It might help him, knowing his family can protect themselves and him.”

“I asked Jessie this morning if she wanted to start training with someone. She said she already went to Rosita and asked if she’d teach her how to shoot.”

“That’ll be good. Rosita’s a good instructor,” Rick said. “She gonna teach Ron, too?” There was an uneasiness in Michonne’s eyes that made Rick falter. “What?”

“I just…” She frowned, worrying her lower lip. “I know he needs it. But he’s so angry right now. Volatile. I’m worried that if he did have access to a gun…” She ran a hand over her hair. “No. No, you’re right. He needs to be able to protect himself. And I don’t mean that, I don’t think he’s dangerous. He’s just a kid who’s been through some shit. But you can’t be the one to train him, Rick. I’ll ask Rosita or Daryl to do it. Maybe Sasha,” she said thoughtfully. “She and Ron have some similarities. Maybe she could say something to help him deal with his anger.”

“Speaking of which,” Rick hummed, “How is Sasha. You two seem to be gettin’ close lately.”

Michonne caught his wry grin and laughed aloud, nose crinkling. “What, you mean like you and Negan have been _gettin’ close?”_ She teased, her voice a poor mockery of Rick’s twang.

Rick thought of him and Negan, all mouths and hands and gentle kisses, and felt himself go soft. “Yeah. Like me and Negan.”

Michonne quirked an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Well, it’s not like that. She just needs somebody right now. We’ve been spending a lot of time together, talking a lot. She lost Bob and Tyreese so close together, and she was in a really bad place for a while. Still is, sometimes, but she’s getting better. I’m trying to help her, just being there for her, you know? She’s angry a lot, and being in this place where all these people have had it so easy, comparatively…it’s hard for her. But she’s getting better.” There was an unmistakable fondness in her voice, and Rick couldn’t help but wonder if there actually was something more there than Michonne was letting on, but he decided not to pry too much. Michonne had afforded him the same respectful privacy about Negan, after all.

“On second thought,” Michonne added, “Maybe two angry, traumatized people aren’t the best to be pairing up for gun training. I think I’ll just ask Rosita-” She broke off suddenly as they approached Rick’s house, and Rick followed her gaze to the front porch. There, beside a newly returned Daryl and Aaron, was a man whom Rick thought he would never see again.

“M- _Morgan_?” He cried, unable to believe what he was seeing. He hadn’t seen the man in ages, and when he had…Morgan hadn’t been doing so well. But now, standing on his front porch with a warm smile on his face, he looked better- saner- than he had then. Rick rushed forward, clapping him heavily on the arm. “How…where did you- how did you get here all the way from Georgia?” He asked, incredulous.

Morgan laughed, deep and easy. Beside him, leaning against the porch railing, was a bo staff. He dipped his head in greeting to Michonne before addressing Rick's question. “I could ask you the same thing, Rick. Except Daryl here already told me on the ride over.”

“He saved our asses,” Daryl said, nodding to Morgan. “Me an’ Aaron were in a tight fuckin’ spot out there, would probably be dead if he hadn’t showed up.”

“All life is precious, Daryl,” Morgan said serenely. “And it turned out I was just as lucky as they were. I found this,” He drew a folded map out of his pocket, one that Rick recognized to be the one Abraham had given him before he left for his initial trip to Washington. On it, in Abe’s clumsy scrawl, was his parting message to Rick- _Sorry I was an asshole. Come to Washington. The new world’s gonna need Rick Grimes._

“I’d been wandering on my own for a while, and I found this out on the road, like a message. Like it was meant to be. Your name, and a destination. So I went,” Morgan smiled. “I didn’t know these folks were a part of your group when I came across them, but when I showed them my map, they told me they had what I was looking for. Who I was looking for. And here you are. And this place…I can hardly believe that this place exists. It’s like something out of a dream.”

“I’m glad you found us.” It was an understatement. Rick really couldn’t believe that the calm, easygoing man in front of him was really the same Morgan he’d left behind in Georgia- the change was jarring. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. And that you seem to be doing well. Back in Georgia, with…when Michonne and Carl and I found you…” Morgan’s expression shifted, nearly imperceptibly, a pained edge tugging at his features, and Rick felt instantly guilty for bringing up such a dark time in the man’s life.

Morgan must have sensed Rick’s incoming apology, because he held a hand up. “It’s alright, Rick. Really. I’m sorry you had to see me when I was like that. After I lost Duane, I lost my way. Lost it for a long time, barely knew who I was. I ended up burning that place you found me in down. Didn’t even mean to, it was just a bad night, and I was careless. I was out on my own for a while after that. I was lost, Rick. Killed walkers, people, anything that tried to get near me. Thought I was clearing the way. And then I met a man who brought me back from all that. A friend. He taught me how to use this,” he gestured to the staff, “And he taught me a better way. Helped me see that life can still be beautiful, that it was still worth it to try to find other people. And now I’m here.”

“Your friend,” Rick asked, fearing that he already knew the answer, “where is he now?”

The echoes of loss etched into Morgan’s face said enough. “He’s dead.”

Rick reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” And he meant it, truly. To lose the person who had pulled your from such a dark place- Rick was amazed that Morgan had retained his newfound sanity after that. Rick briefly considered how he would feel if Negan-

No. No, he couldn’t even let himself think it.

“We having a fucking party out here? I lose my invite or something?” Rick was jerked out of his morbid thoughts by the very person who had occupied them. Negan stepped out the front door, freshly showered with slicked-back hair Judith on his hip, and Rick was temporarily struck dumb. Something about Negan interacting with his kids- whether it was him crooning Johnny Cash softly to Judith to get her to sleep or making breakfast with Carl- made Rick’s heart swell in his chest, a warmth and hominess encompassing him that he so rarely felt since Lori died. It made them seem like a family, and he wondered if that was something Negan wanted, too.

Michonne coughed, subtly nudging Rick with an elbow, and spoke up for him. “Negan, this is Morgan. He and Rick met at the beginning of everything. Daryl and Aaron crossed paths with him when they were out scouting.”

Negan shifted Judith on his hip and offered Morgan his hand, which Morgan warmly shook. “Good to meet you, Morgan. I’m Negan. Rick’s told me about you, actually. I oughta fucking thank you for helping him out right at the beginning. My life wouldn’t be the same without that man.”

Rick felt his throat go thick at Negan’s sweet confession. He gazed lovingly up at Negan, more than a little in awe, nearly missing the bemused, knowing look that Daryl and Aaron exchanged.

Morgan glanced back and forth between him and Negan, reading the situation. “It’s good to meet you too, Negan.” He nodded to Judith, “Is she yours?”

Negan chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of Judith’s curly head. “Nah, not by blood. She’s Rick’s little girl. Startin’ to think of her as my own, though.”

Rick felt the strongest urge to dart up the steps and kiss Negan right there, common decency be damned. He doubted his friends would have minded it too much, but he still held back, new to all of this and not wanting to draw attention to himself by making out with Negan in the middle of a conversation. As it was, he just slid into Negan’s space, leaning into him and feeling the comforting warmth. He smelled good, all freshly washed, and it made Rick want to bury his face into the man’s neck and just breathe him in.

“She’s precious,” Morgan praised, and Negan held Judith out to him.

“You want to hold her?”

Morgan’s eyes danced with delight. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.” Negan shifted Judith into Morgan’s arms and the two of them sat, cooing over her and making her giggle. Michonne , Daryl, and Aaron lingered on the porch, leaning on the railing and watching them.

“How’d Morgan save you out there?” Michonne asked them.

“It was a nightmare. We’d been tracking this guy- we never found him, but we came across this warehouse. There some trucks in the back and we figured, hey, why not see if they had any supplies left in them. Didn’t want to come back empty handed.” Aaron snorted. “Should have just left them.”

“Why?” Rick asked.

“They were stuffed full’a walkers,” Daryl answered, frowning. “All rigged up to come out at us when we opened the door. They swarmed, we got trapped in this car, an’ there was a note in there, must’a been left by some sorry prick that fell for the same shit we did. Said people were coming, to get out. We were 'bout to try to fight our way out when Morgan showed up to save our asses.”

“Shit,” Rick muttered. “Good thing he found you.”

“Oh, an’ somethin’ else, Rick,” Daryl added, serious eyes locking onto his. “You know that guy we found out in the woods? The one with the _W_ on his forehead? We saw some more like that. One was strung up to a damn tree and torn to fuckin’ pieces.”

Rick’s brow furrowed. _What the hell is up with that?_

“Did you say they had W’s on their foreheads?” Morgan suddenly chimed in, and they all turned to look at him. “Not long before I found Aaron and Daryl, I had a run-in with a couple men like that. Live ones. W’s carved into their foreheads. I spoke to one of them before they attacked. When I asked, he said that he was a part of a group that calls themselves the Wolves.” His voice was grim, and it was clear that Morgan’s interaction with this man had been anything but pleasant. “He said they go from community to community. Stealing. Killing. It’s what they would have done to me, if I hadn’t known how to handle myself.” Fear struck though  Rick’s heart, and it must have shown on his face, because Negan stood up and crossed the porch to stand close to him, one hand on the small of his back, rubbing in circles.

“It’s gonna be alright. We’ll be safe here,” Negan said. He was speaking to all of them, but Rick knew the words were meant to comfort him specifically. “We’ve got walls, we’ve got a lot of people- strong fucking people, and even more that we’re gonna start training soon. Nobody’s getting in here without a fight. And if they try, we’ll win.”

* * *

Rick couldn’t help feeling anxious and on edge the rest of the day, and it showed. Carl picked up on it immediately when he got home that night, regarding Rick with concern.

“Is something wrong, dad?” He asked, frowning while he watched Rick nervously pace the hallway outside Judith’s room like a vigilant watchdog. Rick forced himself to still, feet coming to a jerky halt. He didn’t want to worry Carl- especially when it could be over nothing.

“No. No, nothing’s wrong, Carl. I’m alright. Just got a lot on my mind is all. Lot of people to train. And I heard Ron’s not doing so well. Have you talked to him since…since yesterday?”

Carl scuffed a socked foot on the floor. “No. I, uh. I tried, but I don’t think he likes me very much. He’s angry. About what happened.”

Rick sighed, nodding. “I know.”

“His dad was an asshole, though. And he knows it. I’m pretty sure Pete was hitting him, too. I didn’t think much about it, but I saw him with bruises a couple times, and he couldn’t raise one of his arms without looking like he was in pain.” He frowned, his eyes troubled. “I don’t know why I didn’t think…I just…I never thought it could be that, you know? We have bruises and stuff all the time, being out there. I just got so used to seeing people hurt that I didn’t even think that something could actually be _wrong_ -”

Rick softened, pulling his son into his chest and running a hand over his long hair. “Hey, hey. Carl look at me.” He did, reluctantly lifting his head, and Rick saw guilt flickering there. “You don’t need to be sorry, okay? You couldn’t have known. And it’s over now. Pete’s not gonna be hurting anyone anymore.”

Carl breathed deeply, calming himself down. “Yeah. I know.” He hugged Rick back for a second before stepping away. “I’m gonna go to bed. Thanks, Dad. I’m glad that you…I’m just glad that you’re my dad. That I have you.”

Rick smiled, soft and a little sad. “I’m glad I have you too, Carl.”

* * *

Rick was very clearly a ball of nerves as he waited on Negan to come to bed. He sat fitfully, and Negan could feel his eyes on him as he watched him pull his jeans off. The news of a violent group potentially close to them had hit hard- they had just settled into Alexandria, finally found some peace, and now this? He couldn’t imagine how Rick felt, but he could guess by the anxious, tense way he sat on the bed, fingers clenching around the sheets beside him. When Negan sank down beside him, Rick drew him into an embrace immediately, burying his face into the curve of Negan’s neck and breathing deeply.

“Shh, darlin’. It’s alright. I fucking promise you, we’re gonna be alright. Those Wolf fuckers may never show up here,” he soothed, his arms tight around Rick. He hated how shaky Rick’s short breaths were, tight and panicked. Negan layered gentle kisses onto his cheeks and jawline, wishing there was some way to ease the unrest that he saw in the smaller man’s eyes. He stroked Rick’s face, thumbing over the healing cuts and bruises there. “And if they do, we’ll end them. I won’t let a single one of them touch you, baby. I fucking promise you that. We’re gonna be okay.”

Rick leaned his forehead against Negan’s, the gesture sweet and trusting and intimate, and Negan felt his heart give an aching squeeze in his chest. “I know,” Rick said. “I know we’ll be okay. We’ve fought people before. If we have to fight for this place, we’ll win. I know we will. I just…fuck. I’m scared. I hate feeling like this.”

Negan drew Rick down to lay beside him on the bed, their lips so close that Negan could feel the warm puff of Rick’s breath against him. “What can I do, Rick?”

“Just need to take my mind off of things,” Rick murmured, inching closer so that their bodies were flush against each other. Negan knew that wasn’t what he was offering, but the thought skittered across his mind anyway: Rick, soft and flushed and naked underneath him.

He forced the image away, heat coiling inside of him. Instead of dwelling on it, he leaned in, his lips brushing Rick’s. “I can do that.”

There was something so beautiful about the way Rick kissed, he thought as their mouths moved together. There was a quiet strength to it, much like Rick himself, that Negan found nearly addicting. And _fuck_ , he thought, if he was going to be addicted to something, make it this man. He would gladly overdose on him, on the feeling of Rick’s warm, wet mouth covering his own. It was all too easy to lose himself in, and Negan had to consciously draw himself back occasionally, not letting his hands wander too far.

It had been…well, it had been a long while since he’d been intimate with another person like this. He could still remember the last time he had been kissed like this, really kissed. It had been Lucille, a few months after her diagnosis and shortly before her permanent admittance to the hospital and deteriorating condition had left her too sick and weary to do anything but accept gentle pecks on the lips or cheek.

And maybe it was because it had been so damn long since he’d had another person that Rick’s gentle, ambling kisses left him so breathless and flushed. But, _God_ , he wanted him. He tried not to, it was far, far too soon for that, but he did, and he could feel it- his breathing becoming labored, the kiss becoming sloppier as warmth spread through him.

He silently prayed Rick wouldn’t notice. That he’d fall asleep on Negan’s chest and Negan would quietly will himself down.

But he did notice. Rick squirmed in closer and Negan’s breath hitched at the feeling of Rick’s body pressing against the aching hardness in his boxers.

Rick jerked back suddenly, as if Negan’s touch burned him. He pulled away from Negan, putting distance between them. Negan froze, eyes wide, and shifted back on the mattress, away from Rick, trying to give him some space.

“Rick, hey," He tried to soothe in vain, "Sorry. I’m sorry. We don’t have to- you know we don’t…I’m not even asking…” The look on Rick’s face- fear, panic, mistrust- to have all of that directed at him felt like a blow to the gut, swift and brutal. He knew he shouldn’t feel that way, that it wasn’t Rick’s fault, that he wasn’t the one who was hurt right now. There was something else on Rick’s face, too. Something not directed at Negan, but inward, at himself- a frustrated anger that made Negan want to pull Rick into his arms and whisper comforting words into his ear.

But he knew better than to attempt that right now. Instead, Negan pulled himself as far away from Rick as he could, placing one hand in the center of the bed between them, an invitation: _I’m not going anywhere, I’m not upset, I’m here if you want me._

Rick didn’t take it. Instead, he recoiled, and the movement made Negan’s insides twist up unpleasantly. “Do you want me to go?”

Rick didn’t answer, didn’t look at him, and Negan thrice damned himself and his stupid, traitorous body for reacting the way it did, for scaring Rick away. The last thing Rick had needed tonight was more to fear. “Rick, if you want me to go, please tell me. I don’t wanna make things worse.”

His silence and withered posture spoke volumes. “You should go,” he whispered, eyes downcast.

Negan nodded and slid off the bed. “I’ll, uh. I’ll be in my room. If you need anything.” He swallowed roughly, guilt gnawing at him. “I’m sorry, Rick.”

And then he was out the door, down the stairs and in his bedroom, fear and loneliness ripping at him violently. Foolishly, hopefully, he crawled into bed and waited, hating that he already felt an aching tug at the feeling of empty space beside him.

_Maybe he just needs a little time. Maybe I didn’t fuck everything up after all._

He grabbed the book off his nightstand, diving in to try to force his thoughts elsewhere. His eyes kept flickering to the small clock on his nightstand.

_12:07_

_1: 43_

_2:15_

The last time that Negan glanced over, eyes heavy with sleep, it read three a.m. on the dot. He drifted off, book still open on his chest, thinking, _Fuck, he’s really not coming after all._


	17. Chapter 17

Sleep evaded Rick the whole night, much to his dismay. He couldn’t even say he was surprised- there was too much to occupy his mind and keep it reeling and restless. The news that Morgan had brought them about the Wolves would have been more than enough on its own to make him lose sleep, but after what happened with Negan- and after he’d told Negan to leave- he knew there wasn’t a chance of him getting any rest.

He couldn’t let himself think about the Wolves- _couldn’t_ , he insisted whenever his thoughts began to stray in that direction. If he allowed himself to start obsessing over what-if scenarios, he would end up waking up the town and calling them all to arms at four in the morning just to ease his anxious thoughts. Instead, as he lay curled on his side on the bed, staring out the window at the darkened sky, the only thing he let himself think about was Negan.

He missed him. It was just one night, but he already missed the man’s warm, strong, safe presence curled up on the bed beside him. The was a part of him- a very large part of him, in fact- that wanted nothing more than to make his way downstairs and crawl into bed with Negan again. But he didn’t- felt like he couldn’t, because all of the sweetness and safety that he felt in the other man’s presence was now confused by the glaring, obvious factor that Rick had managed to completely forget about in his pursuit of the other man: sex.

It had been…it had been a long time. Since before the prison, since before Lori’s death. It was well over a year now, and after Terminus he hadn’t even thought about it. That whole section of his mind had been quarantined off, deemed too unsafe to explore. Now he wondered how long he would have let himself stay closed off to that kind of desire if it hadn’t come up between him and Negan like this. Even before Terminus, he could hardly remember the last time he’d touched himself- he’d been on the road with Carl and Michonne after the prison fell, and being out there, fighting for basic things like food and shelter and safety, his focus hadn’t been on that.

For a moment, Rick wondered if that part of him was just gone entirely now- if there would ever be a way for him to enjoy himself and another person like that without the memory of Gareth’s assault creeping in to taint it. He abhorred the thought that the man could still hold that much power over him even when he was dead and gone by Rick’s own hands. He wanted more than that- he _wanted_ to want Negan, wanted to be able to lose himself in that kind of delirious pleasure again. He wanted to try, at least. He didn’t know if he was ready for it, if he ever would be, but he wanted to at least try. It would be an exercise in faith, testing how far his trust in Negan went, but as Rick watched the orange of the sunrise start to crack the night sky, he knew that he had to at least talk about it. He couldn’t take another night of being alone and unsure in his bed. Even if he couldn’t do it- even if Negan left him because of it, he needed to know.

* * *

When Negan walked into the kitchen in the morning, Rick was already awake and rinsing dishes in the sink. It must be later than he usually got up, he realized- Rick was more of an early riser, and the last couple days he’d depended on the other man to be the one to get his tired ass out of bed. The realization that he had already started to form such a routine with Rick left a sad pang ringing through his chest.

Carl was nowhere to be seen, but Judith was still in her high chair at the table, happily gumming away at a teething toy that Aaron and Daryl had brought back from their scouting run. Negan hovered awkwardly by the counter, pouring himself a bowl of not-too-stale cereal to distract himself from the air of unease.

“So, ah. Carl already leave?” He asked conversationally, trying to keep things light.

Rick made an affirmative noise as he shut off the water and dried his hands. “Yeah. You just missed him. He actually volunteered to help Rosita and the others out with gun training.” The note of pride in Rick’s voice was unmistakable, and it pulled a smile out of Negan.

“That’s good. That’s real fucking good,” Negan said around a mouthful of cereal. Rick met his eyes for a moment, and Negan couldn’t decide between trying to hold his gaze or dropping his eyes. The memory of last night- of the fear and hurt on Rick’s face, came back to him all at once and made his decision for him. He stared into the depths of his bowl. Frosted Flakes were much less enjoyable to look at than Rick.

There was a long minute of silence, and for once Negan didn’t know what the hell to fill it with. He scarfed his breakfast and rinsed his bowl, the quiet worming its way under his skin and making him itch. He was about to move away when Rick caught his wrist, holding tight.

“I-” he started, his voice tight. “I’m sorry. About last night. I didn’t…I shouldn’t have told you to leave like that, I know you didn’t mean- that you weren’t…” Rick trailed off, and Negan met his eyes then to see the torn, anxious expression there.

“Rick, no. Fuck, baby, you don’t need to fucking apologize to me. You didn’t do anything wrong, fuck-” he shook his head, rubbing his free hand over his mouth. “It wasn’t your fault, Rick. Wasn’t anyone’s fault. I just need you to know that I don’t- that I wouldn’t, not ever, not if you weren’t one-hundred-and-fifty-fucking-percent okay with it-”

Rick squeezed his wrist tightly, the pad of his thumb brushing Negan’s healing knuckles. “I know,” he murmured. “I know that. It wasn’t that I thought you would- I just panicked. I haven’t thought about that in so long, Negan. And I just…I wasn’t expecting it. It’s been so long and after what happened I feel like I just closed that part of myself off and I- I really didn’t have to think about it until last night.”

“I’m sorry, Rick,” Negan said hoarsely. “Really, I-”

Rick shook his head, gently lacing their fingers together. “It’s okay. Really. Like you said, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It happened. I just needed to tell you that it doesn’t change anything. How I feel about you. I can’t- I can’t guarantee that that’s something I can jump right into, though, Negan. I want to want that with you- I do, but I don’t know if I can.”

“ _Rick_. If you don’t want to do this, we’re not gonna do it, okay? I never want you to fucking feel like…like you have to. Especially not with me. Because you don’t. You don’t have to today, or tomorrow, or any other day. Hell, Rick, if you never want to, I’d be okay with it.”

Rick’s eyes widened, blue and infinitely deep. “You can’t mean that, Negan.”

“I most certainly fucking do, Rick. If you never want that, it’s okay.” And he meant it- Rick’s companionship, his warmth and strength and loyalty were worth more than that. He’d gone a long time without anyone- without sex, without friendship, without love. As much as he wanted Rick, he’d keep going without the first one as long as Rick still wanted him by his side.

“Because you’d find it somewhere else,” Rick said quietly, and Negan’s whole body seized up in rejection of the statement.

“Wh- fuck, what the fuck, Rick? No! No, not because I’d find it somewhere else. I want to have sex with you, Rick, but if you never get to the point where you want it, I’m still gonna be here. You and me, right? I’m with you.” And then, looking at Rick in the moment, his clear blue eyes and look of awe and incredulity on his face, he couldn’t hold it in. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been holding it in, but he had- all at once, he knew, and he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. “I love you, Rick. I fucking love you. And I’m gonna keep fucking loving you whether or not we ever have sex, whether or not you want me to give you your space or if- if you want to call whatever this is between us off.” He reached out then, hand hovering, and when Rick pressed his stubbled cheek into the palm of his hand, Negan felt his chest tighten almost painfully. “I love you,” he whispered again, because he felt like he couldn’t say it enough. “I never thought I’d love someone like this again, but here you fucking are, Rick. And if you want me as- as a partner, or a friend, or what-the-fuck-ever, I’ll take it. We’re whatever you want us to be.”

Rick’s eyes shone then- bright, glistening, his face ardent in a way that Negan knew reflected the adoration on his own. When Rick leaned up and drew himself in close, when his lips found Negan’s in a kiss that was far too gentle for Negan to feel like he’d been brought to his knees, he felt like a drowning man being saved.

“It’s like you said.” Rick’s words were a lifeline, spoken sweet and precious against his lips. “You and me. I’m with you.”

* * *

Rick was still riding the blissful high of his earlier talk with Negan when he joined Rosita, Daryl, and Carl to help with gun training. He watched fondly as Carl explained basic gun mechanics and targeting to a man and woman, feeling proud that Carl was confident enough in his abilities to step up to guide people like this. And he was good at it, Rick noticed- even though he must have been at least fifteen years younger than the couple he was teaching, they both listened intently to him, and he spoke with the clarity and assuredness of a much older man.

Carl glanced back at him when the woman finally picked up the handgun to start aiming at the targets they’d set up. He must have caught the look of fatherly pride on Rick’s face, because he looked somewhere between embarrassed and pleased.

A little ways away, Daryl was teaching two women how to handle a crossbow using a dead walker as practice. Rick huffed a small laugh at that and stepped up beside his friend, watching as one of them women managed to get the thing in its rotten throat. “Trees and empty bottles not good enough for you?” He joked.

Daryl shrugged. “Nah,” he answered, “Just too rough on the bolts. Tryin’ to keep ‘em from breakin’. We got a lot more in the armory, but I’d rather not waste ‘em unless I gotta. ‘Sides, it’s better for them to practice on these things, you know? Get used to it.”

Rick nodded. “Good. That’s smart.”

Daryl glanced over at his trainees- the taller woman had just shot and missed by a foot, the bolt sinking into the soft dirt beside the body. “Take you time aimin’. We ain’t in no rush out here, an’ it’s better to get used to gettin’ it perfect goin’ slow than always rushin’ and missin’ half the time. You got it. Try again.” Rick grinned at that, and Daryl narrowed his eyes when he caught it. “What?”

Rick shook his head fondly, shoving Daryl’s arm. “Nothin’. Just…you. You’ve come a long way is all. Never would have thought I’d see the day you’d be out here, teaching people like this. Encouraging them, even.”

Daryl laughed gruffly. “Yeah. I wouldn’t have, either.”

“You’ve been different since the prison fell.” Rick observed. “It took you a while to open up here, but you seem to be gettin’ along with Aaron and Eric. Heard you had dinner with them the other night. And you and Beth seem to have gotten to be friends. Never would have thought I’d see that.”

There was a look of unmistakable fondness on Daryl’s face at that. “Yeah. She…when we were out there, just the two of us- I was kind of an ass at first. And she wouldn’t put up with that shit.” He chuckled. “Lookin’ at her, you wouldn’t guess it, but that girl’s really somethin’ else. Put me right in my damn place. Knocked me on my ass a little bit, if I’m bein’ honest. And I needed that. I was fucked up after the prison, thinkin’ I wouldn’t see none of you again, and she brought me back from that. Made me see there was still good people out there, you know? And Aaron, bein’ out there with him…it’s the same way.”

“I’m glad,” Rick said. “And you’re doing really well here, Daryl. Keep it up.” At that, Daryl made an embarrassed grunt that told Rick that their heart-to-heart was done, and he patted him once on the shoulder before walking over to Rosita, who was working with Jessie and Ron. She shot Rick a dangerous look as he approached, her face a warning to stay a little further back and he lingered a couple yards away, watching as Jessie took aim at the empty soda cans lined up along the log. She hit two out of her first three, and Rosita nodded in approval as she handed the gun off for Ron to have a turn.

Jessie caught his eyes as he observed, and much to Rick’s surprise, she walked over to him. “Hey,” she said. There some reservation in her voice, but also a newfound strength.

“Hey,” Rick replied, offering a small smile. “You’re doin' well.”

Jessie ran a hand through her hair, smiling a little. “Rosita’s a good teacher.”

“She is,” Rick agreed, and then, because he couldn’t stand the way they were dancing around it- “How are you? You and Ron and Sam?”

Jessie bit her lower lip and cast a worried look over at Ron before gesturing for them to step a few more feet out of earshot. “We’re…we’re getting through it. I’m dealing with it the best I can. I know that- that it was the right call. I wish it hadn’t happened in front of Sam, but I don’t…miss him.” There was a guilt in her eyes, a well of pain. “He was hitting Ron. He hadn’t done that before, it had just started recently, and I should have done something, said something then. I tried to take the worst of it- but Ron, he- he would step in sometimes, try to stand up for me. Try to protect me. And then Pete would go after him, and-” she broke off, tears in her eyes. “I’ve never been as scared as the night he went after my little boy, Rick. Never felt that helpless before, not even the first time he’d hit me. I just- I didn’t know what to do, and Ron didn’t want to talk about it, and I…” she shook her head. “I didn’t know if there was anything anyone could do, you know? People around the neighborhood already knew, and since Pete was a doctor, I could tell they just kind of figured it was for the best.”

“It wasn’t,” Rick insisted. “It wasn’t for the best, Jessie. I’m glad you know that. We can train more people to be doctors. We have people who know first aid, have some training. We have resources. We’ll be okay. Doctors can be replaced. It’s just a job.”

Jessie nodded, her eyes still on Ron. “Thank you,” she said suddenly. “For keeping your distance. Giving us space. And for agreeing to let us choose what to do with Pete. Maggie and Michonne were kind to us, and I appreciate that you…that you thought of us. Thought of Sam and Ron.”

Rick nodded. “Of course.” He felt a curling lock of hair fall in his face as his head bobbed, and Jessie smiled as he pushed it behind his ear.

“Your hair’s getting awfully long,” she noted. “Should have taken me up on that offer of a haircut.”

Rick ran his fingers through it, feeling how it waved and curled over his ears and down his neck. He remembered the way Negan’s fingers felt tangled in it when they kissed, and felt himself grow warm. “Maybe,” he said, “But I actually think it’s starting to grow on me.”

She seemed to consider that, nodding. “It suits you,” she agreed, and then turned back to Rosita, who was waving her over for a second round. “I’ll see you around, Rick.”

* * *

“Mother-dicking monkey-ass-slapping son of a biscuit- lovin’ _bitch!”_ Abraham hissed between gritted teeth as Negan and Sasha helped him hobble into the infirmary. It had been moved since Pete’s death- to the downstairs of a young, strawberry-blonde woman named Denise who looked a little more than alarmed when the three of them came bursting through her front door. In fact, at the sight of Abraham, she seemed to go positively green, which wasn’t the most encouraging thing in a trainee doctor.

To be fair to her, Negan thought, Abe did look a little worse for wear. Blood poured freely from a wide gash on his forehead, and he was visibly unsteady on his feet.

“Help him sit- yeah, right there,” Denise said, leaping to her feet and joining them at one of the beds set up against the far wall of what probably used to be her living room. Tara was there too, Negan noticed, though she looked keen to stay out of the fray.

“He’s not as bad as he looks,” Sasha offered as Denise stepped in close to Abraham to take a better look at the damage. “Took a good hit to the head, but he’s still swearing op a storm, so I’m guessing he’s not in too much trouble.”

Denise nodded, looking less concerned now that she’d gotten a closer look. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. He’ll need some stitches, may have a concussion, I’m guessing, since you guys had to carry him in here. I can take care of that, though. Tara, could you get me the suture kit in the second drawer over there?” She called. “What happened to him?”

Negan watched as Denise swabbed at Abraham’s forehead with a washcloth and antiseptic, cleaning up the worst of the blood. “Some dumbass kid on construction duty wasn’t lookin’ where he was goin’ and smacked him right on the damn noggin’ with a steel beam. Don’t think it was _too_ hard, but it sure threw him for a fucking loop.”

Abraham blared up at him. “It was pretty damn hard.”

Negan held his hands up in surrender. “I’m sure it was, buddy, I was just saying that you’re still fucking here, so…” Sasha silenced him with a hasty  _not-right-now-you-idiot_ look. “Right, well. You ladies don’t fucking need me here, right? I’ll just get out of your fucking hair. Red, hope she gets you stitched up and you're back to bein' a grumpy son of a bitch real soon-” He turned on his heel and made for the door when Tara caught him in a surprisingly vice-like grip, wheeling him around to stand by the bed again.

“Actually, Negan, I think we could use you here,” She said, an all-too-innocent grin on her face. “Denise has medical know-how, but she never got around to any practical training, and this is only her second time doing stitches. The last time, Rosita was here to watch, but you’ll do just fine. You stitched Rick up, after all.”

Negan narrowed his eyes at her, meeting her smug, cheerful eyes with fire. “I’m sure Denise here can handle a few fucking stitches.”

“Actually, an extra pair of eyes would be great. Thanks, Negan!” Denise said, looking relieved as she took up the needle. “I was training to be a surgeon, actually, in college, but I got…anxious and ended up being a psychiatrist. Pete didn’t want me around, but he’s gone and now I’m the most qualified one here…” she was too engrossed in her stitching to look back and notice Negan flipping off a very smug-looking Tara. She flipped him off right back, and at that, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Negan, hey- this looks right, doesn’t it? Rosita said the ones I did on Heath yesterday looked fine, but I just wanna be sure.” Denise said, and Negan dragged himself away from his increasingly immature staring contest with Tara to look over her work.

“Yep. Looks perfect. Don’t fucking doubt yourself, you’re doing just fine. How you feelin’, Red?”

Abraham looked right on the edge of annoyed, but he seemed to be biting back on that for Denise’s sake. “Fine. Pissed at that fuckin’ numbnuts who clocked me.”

Negan grinned. “Good as new, then.” Abraham glared, and Negan took that as incentive to clear out. “Well, if nobody’s got anymore shit for me to watch,-” He shot a pointed look at Tara, “-I’ll be going now. Red, I, uh. Glad you’re alright,” he fumbled out, feeling awkward. To his immense relief, Abraham looked just as uncomfortable.

“Yeah, uh. Thanks. For helpin’ Sasha haul my ass outta there.”

It wasn’t much, Negan thought. It was hardly a friendship bracelet, but it was something.

“Yeah. No fuckin’ problem, Red.”

* * *

Rick’s eyes blew wide when Negan stepped into the foyer with his upper body spattered and smudged with blood. He looked disgruntled and grimy and tired, but surprisingly unhurt. Rick rushed forward anyway, frowning and looking him over with scrutiny. “What happened? Are you hurt?” His hands ran up over Negan’s sides and chest, checking for cuts- or, god forbid, _bites_ -

“I’m fine, darlin’. Really. It’s not mine, it’s Abe’s. Some kid accidentally nailed him in the head with a steel beam. He’s fine,” Negan added quickly when Rick’s hands froze and he cast Negan a worried look. “All stitched up and good as new. Just bled a lot. Head wounds, you know.”

Rick relaxed, not pulling his hands away just yet. Despite the mess of sweat and dirt and blood that covered Negan, Rick liked being close to him like this, just touching. “Glad you’re both alright. I’d say you could have the first shower, but…” He gestured to himself, and Negan took him in as if seeing his current state for the first time.

“Holy shit, what the hell happened to you?” Negan laughed, tugging at Rick’s ruined shirt. Rick couldn’t blame him- he looked and smelled like the inside of a walker. He’d tried to wipe the worst of the much off of him before he got in the house, but he was still spattered from neck to thigh in rot and blood.

“I was out helping with gun training. We were doing it a little ways out in the woods, and I was trying to keep the area clear so they didn’t have to worry about gettin’ jumped, but the gunfire drew in a few on one side. Got two of them, but my knife got caught in the third one and it ended up on top of me- long story short, I ended up accidentally gutting the thing before getting its brain.” Rick shook his head ruefully. “Dumb mistake, and now I smell like a sewer. Too bad, too. I liked this shirt.”

Negan snorted at that, plucking at a gut-free spot on the sleeve. “It’s a fucking white t-shirt, Rick. They’re not exactly in short supply. I think I’ve got at least three in my room, if you really want one.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Rick’s forehead, and Rick felt his heart flutter in his chest. “You definitely have me beat for the shower, though. Just don’t take too fucking long. When Carol brings Judith back over, I don’t think the little angel’s gonna want to play with me if I look like an extra in a slasher film.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Rick, and he swallowed, bracing himself. It was a good idea- and he wanted it, suddenly, now that it was in his head. But being straightforward about what he wanted from people had never been his strong suit. Negan seemed to pick up on his hesitation and nudged his shoulder. “Hey, Rick. You alright? You look like you wanna say something.”

“I, ah-” he internally cursed himself- he was a grown fucking man with children, why was this so damn hard? “You don’t have to wait. If you don’t want to. You could join me. In the shower,” he clarified, cringing at the obviousness of the statement. Negan looked like he was torn between confusion and want, and Rick clung to the hesitant eagerness in the taller man’s eyes.

“You sure about that, Rick? I mean- fuck, I’m not gonna turn you down, but I don’t want to rush you-”

“You’re not rushing me,” Rick reassured him, taking his hand and moving toward the stairs. “You’re not. I’m offering. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to. Just figured- good way to get used to just…” he felt his face flush and wanted to kick himself for acting like a blushing virgin over this. “Thought it’d be a good first step. You’ve already been in the shower with me, after all,” he joked, “Just gotta get you naked this time around.”

Negan chuckled and let himself be led up the stairs by the hand, closing the bathroom door behind them. He started fiddling with the knobs, adjusting the water temperature as Rick stripped out of his clothes and dumped them in the sink. They were probably too far gone to wash and rewear, he realized- his shirt definitely was, anyway. His jeans were dark enough that they could be salvaged.

He heard the soft whisper of fabric against skin as Negan undressed behind him, and Rick felt the heat on his face spread as he shoved down his boxers. _Fuck_ , he chided himself, _you’re too old to be acting like this_. When he turned around, Negan was already in the stall, a vaporous fog rolling out from the top of the glass doors. Rick shed his shyness with his clothes, leaving it on the bathroom floor as he stepped into the shower.

Negan’s face was upturned toward the spray, hands rubbing across his face to wash away the remaining traces of blood. Rick swallowed hard, his eyes roaming over the other man's body with interest. When Rick’s bare hip bumped Negan’s own, he opened his eyes, blinking away droplets of water that clung to his eyelashes like rain. Rick smiled up at him, his thumb coming to rub at a spot on Negan’s forehead that he’d missed, scrubbing away the last smudge of red. “You missed a spot.”

Negan grinned and spun Rick around by the shoulders, guiding him under the showerhead. “Yeah, well, you need this more than I do, Rick. No fucking offense, gorgeous, but you smell like week-old roadkill.” He pressed the soap into Rick’s hands. “Wash up.”

Rick dug down deep and found something he’d thought long buried. Dusting it off, he donned a flirtatious smile and held the bottle out to Negan. “Thought you might want to do the honors.” At Negan’s hesitance, he reached out and drew the other man in by the nape of the neck, fingers playing with the locks of wet hair curling there. “It’s alright, Negan. I’ll let you if I’m not, okay? I just- I want you to touch me. I want to try.”

Negan gazed down at him, and even if he hadn’t said it aloud that morning, Rick wouldn’t have been able to miss the love and adoration in his eyes. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’,” he breathed, pouring out the soap into his palms and beginning to work it into Rick’s skin, starting at his arms. He took his time, Rick noticed- went slow, soaping and rinsing, washing Rick’s arms, his hair, working his way down to his chest. Briefly, Rick wondered if Negan could feel the heavy thrum of his heartbeat under his ribs- he didn’t see how he couldn’t, Rick could practically hear it roaring in his ears, louder than the noise of the shower. Negan’s eyes kept wandering between where his hands were on Rick’s body up to Rick’s eyes, asking, searching, making sure that what he was doing was okay.

It was. God help him, it was. Rick felt ragged, his breath labored when Negan’s thumbs brushed the sensitive nubs of his nipples. If he hadn’t been directly under a steady stream of water, he was sure he’d be sweating.

Soapy fingers rubbed down his back, came back around to trace the muscle of his stomach. “You’re fucking beautiful, Rick,” Negan murmured, a hushed whisper between them, spoken like a prayer. Negan’s fingers found the pink, raised scar on his shoulder from where he’d been shot all that time ago and Negan had stitched him up, touching it tenderly. Rick couldn’t help but think how far he’d come in that time- how he’d flinched away from Negan’s healing touch then, how he pushed into it now, wanting _more_.

He noticed how Negan’s hands stopped at his hips and he covered the hands with his own, squeezing. “Keep going. Please.”

When Negan dropped to his knees in front of Rick, hands warm and steadying on his thighs, Rick lost his breath. The stall suddenly felt utterly robbed of air, and all Rick could focus on was the man before him, the feeling of large hands rubbing lovingly over his thighs and down his calves. Rick spread his legs a little wider, feet shifting apart on the wet tile floor, and he wondered if Negan’s face was a reflection of his own- flushed, fevered, lips parted in wonder. Rick fumbled with one hand behind his back, adjusting the cooling water back to warmth as Negan’s hands worked up the soft insides of his thighs. Negan was quiet- so quiet, but in an almost reverent way that didn’t carry itself in the same way as silence did. He air between them felt weighted, and Rick felt like his words were drawn out of him to be cradled in the fog. “Keep going.”

For how naked he was, Rick hadn’t given his dick much thought until Negan’s hand delved in between his legs. Gentle fingers cupped his balls, and his cock gave a hard twitch, stirring to life. Negan’s lips found the outside of his thigh in a chaste kiss that left Rick breathless, and his hands came to rest on the back of Negan’s head of their own accord, encouraging him. Negan’s mouth took the same path his hands had, up his thighs and then between, once again stopping before they reached too far.

And then Negan was rising to his feet and kissing him, and Rick felt himself melt, Negan’s arms wrapping around his waist and pulling their wet bodies close. Rick felt himself shake, but it was _good_ \- so good to feel like this again, even if it was slow, tentative, fragile. He liked the way Negan felt against him, hot and wet and strong as Rick leaned into him, pressing him into the tiled wall. He was hard, and he could feel it, pressed thick and stiff between their stomachs, and for a moment he just let himself enjoy that- the feeling of being so turned on, knowing that he still could be. Negan mouthed at his throat fingers shaking against Rick’s hips. “What do you want, darlin’?” Negan’s question was a wet gust of breath against Rick’s neck. “Anything you want, any-fucking-thing in the world, I’ll give it to you.”

Rick’s heels slid against the tile, and he clung to Negan, fingertips digging into his forearms. They both laughed and Rick felt almost giddy with the lightness of it. “Not here. I want-” he licked his lips, face heating up. “But not here.”

Rick was thankful that Carl wasn’t home yet as they dried off quickly and scuttled, towel-clad, into Rick’s bedroom. Rick’s hair and shoulders were still damp as Negan guided him back onto the bed, their towels discarded onto the floor. His legs seemed to fall open of their own accord, and he could feel the warmth spread from his face down to his chest when he caught Negan staring at him, hazel eyes roaming down his body in a gaze so intimate that it nearly felt like a touch. "Fucking _gorgeous_ ," Negan breathed, awe and unabashed desire openly written across his face. The light outside the window was tinted orange and fading, casting a warm glow across the side of Negan’s face as he crawled up to kneel between Rick’s thighs, warm palms gliding up the skin. “Tell me what you want, Rick. You’ve got me, darlin’, you can have anything. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Shyly, Rick reached a hand out and traced Negan’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, posing the question that he felt sticking in his throat. He had never been one to ask, to give voice to something so personal and self-seeking, and the words were heavy like honey on his tongue. “Your- your mouth. I want-” his voice died when Negan took his fingers between his lips, rolling them over and sucking gently. 

He drew away after a heated moment, his eyes locked onto Rick’s like a lighthouse in a storm, a beacon of safety and light. “I can do that.”

And then Negan was kissing down Rick’s neck, lips fluttering against the flushed skin. He tried to worship Rick’s body with his hands and mouth, tried to convey in every brush of lips or hands against skin how precious Rick was to him, drinking in every inch of him like he was a man dying of thirst. His hands smoothed over Rick’s sides, up his thighs, feeling the way they shook. He mouthed at Rick’s chest, his stomach, tasting him and trying to kiss away the trembling. Rick’s body was the altar at which he wanted to lay himself bare, and he spoke hushed words against Rick’s skin like a prayer, quiet and reverent.

_Perfect. Beautiful. So, so beautiful, Rick. Doing so good for me._

He wondered if Rick could feel his devotion in the gentle presses of lips and hands, hoped that he could. Hoped that, when Negan drew him into his mouth, Rick felt the overwhelming mingling of adoration and pleasure that he himself was lost in.

Rick couldn’t stop the wordless gasp that fell from his lips when Negan’s mouth closed around him. He didn't know where to put his hands and they skimmed the bed, Negan’s hair, twisting into the sheets only to tense and flex when Negan drew his tongue down the length of him.

“Ne- _Negan_ -” Rick’s fingers laced with Negan’s, his free hand reaching down to stroke through damp hair. His thighs shook, wanting to both clench down around Negan’s head and spread impossibly wider all at once.

His body was a string, finely tuned and plucked just right by Negan’s calloused hands, vibrating and creating something new, melodious. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, engulfed in the warmth and wetness of Negan’s mouth. His cries were nearly sobs, pleas for the man between his thighs to _keep going, Negan, baby, please_.

He was being played skillfully, tenderly, lovingly, and when Negan brought him to a crescendo, he felt unmade, unraveled and then woven together again. He couldn’t hold himself back, a breathless, ragged cry leaving him.

After, when Negan hovered beside him, stroking his hair, crooning sweet praises into his ear, he felt beautiful, cherished, washed clean. When Negan kissed his cheeks, holding him close, his realized that his face was wet. He smiled, and Negan rubbed his back soothingly. “You alright?”

Laughter bubbled up in Rick’s chest because he felt so much more than alright. “Yeah, I’m alright,” he hummed into Negan’s collarbones. “You just…you keep finding ways to bring me back. I keep thinking there’s parts of me that are too far gone, and you- you keep provin’ me wrong.” The words that he hadn’t said this morning- the words that he was saving for the right moment to share, so that when Negan heard them, he felt just as adored he’d made Rick feel- were still rolling around in his mouth. He meant them- he knew he did, but they still didn’t feel right to say here, in the afterglow of what had just happened. He didn’t want Negan to think that he was just saying them because he’d gotten off. He needed him to know just how _much_ he meant it. It was why he hadn’t said them earlier- because he didn’t want Negan to think they were just an exchange, a forced return of what he’d said to Rick.

Instead, he squirmed in closer, trembling hand tentatively resting on Negan’s thigh, fingers dancing nervously against bare skin. “Do you- do you want me to…?”

Negan stilled his hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his palm. “No, darlin’. Don’t worry about that, alright? Not till you’re ready.” He kissed Rick on the lips one last time, slow and sweet, before rolling off the bed and seeking out his towel. Rick watched him from the bed, skimming the long, lean line of Negan’s body with his eyes, taking him in. Negan caught him when he straightened and fastened the towel around his waist, giving him a wry smirk. “I’m gonna go get dressed. You may wanna think about doing that, too. Not that I fucking mind you laying around naked, but it’s not that late and the kids will probably be back soon.”

As if on cue, the sound of the front door being opened came from downstairs, and Carol’s voice drifted up the stairs. “Rick? Negan? I _know_ you two are home-”

Negan snickered and threw open the door. “Yeah, give us a second, Carol! I’ll be right down.”

* * *

That night, as Negan was tucking away his clothes into the empty dresser drawers in Rick’s bedroom, Rick came up behind him, burying his face between the taller man’s shoulder blades. “You gonna move in?”

Negan closed the drawer and walked Rick back to the bed, pulling him down onto his chest as they sprawled against the pillows. “Figured I should move some clothes in here, at the very least. That way if we get caught up here again I’m not gonna be giving Carol any more eyefuls of me in a towel.”

Rick snorted. “Yeah, alright. You could have just worn somethin’ of mine, you know.”

“Your clothes are too small on me, Rick. You’re a fucking tiny little thing.”

Rick jabbed him playfully with an elbow, grinning. “My clothes would fit you. You’re not that much bigger than me. And speakin’ of which, I seem to remember you promisin’ me a shirt.”

Negan heaved a dramatic sigh and ran his hands over Rick’s bare chest, enjoying the feeling of smooth skin beneath his hands. He’d hoped that Rick was just planning to sleep shirtless. “That what you’re waitin’ on, then?” Rick nodded, and Negan slid his hands down Rick’s thighs, encouraging him to straddle his waist. Rick looked confused, but obliged, his knees on either side of Negan’s hips when Negan wrapped his arms tight around Rick’s waist and sat up, Rick now in his lap. “I was hoping you’d just ditch the shirt tonight, but I’m a man of my word, Rick.” He reached back, tugging the hem of his shirt up and over his head and then pressing it into Rick’s hands, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of Rick’s bare skin against his own. Rick eagerly slipped it on, and Negan had to bite his lip to contain the smug smile when he saw the way it fell a tad loosely around Rick’s frame. _Not that much bigger, my ass. If he stood up, that shirt would probably cover that cute ass of his._

“What?” Rick’s voice said he caught the smirk, but Negan just pulled him in close, kissing his forehead.

“Nothin’, darlin’. You look fucking perfect.”


	18. Chapter 18

The next week was surprisingly calm- no major crises, no more streetside brawls, no threats to life and limb. Negan appreciated it, reveled in it, even- finally, it felt like life in Alexandria was becoming the new normal, like they were really beginning to settle in for good and make the place into a home. He worked construction or helped with gun training and came home to Rick and Carl and Judith like they were his family. And, fuck, that’s what he caught himself thinking more than once- that they were his family.

If Rick minded him making himself at home, he didn’t give voice to it. In fact- and maybe it was just Negan’s wishful thinking- he even seemed to encourage it. Negan would catch him sometimes, just watching from the sidelines when Negan interacted with his kids with a smile that was full of affection and warmth. And Negan loved Rick's kids- loved hanging out with Carl when they were waiting for Rick to get home from his last patrol of the evening, loved taking turns with him and Tara on the Gameboy that she and Glenn had found on a run, loved cooking with him the way they did most nights as they were all too eager to keep Rick out of the kitchen.

“Mom couldn’t cook, either,” Carl told him one evening as they were following one of Carol’s recipes for a _whatever-you-can-find_ casserole that she swore tasted better than it sounded. Negan’s eyebrows raised, and he resisted the urge to eagerly pounce on the information- Carl so rarely spoke of his mother, and when he did, it was with a melancholy, nearly haunted look that made him look much older than his fourteen years.

“That fuckin’ so? How’d you get by between her and your dad?” Negan asked as he pried open a can of beans.

“I like to think it prepared me for eating roadkill and cans of green beans for a week straight like we had to for a while on the road,” Carl mused. “They didn’t cook very much, though. We ate a lot of take out.” He sighed wistfully, staring at the half-assembled casserole. “I miss pizza.”

Negan snorted. “You and me both, kid. We oughta talk to Deanna about that. Call a fucking town meeting. New top priority needs to be finding a fucking cow so we can make cheese and…fuck, I bet Carol’s got some way to make crust outta somethin’ weird. It won’t be fucking Dominos, but...”

“Language,” Rick interrupted with a cheeky grin as he stepped in the front door. Negan felt his face light up at the very sight of him, all dressed up in his constable uniform, long hair curling untidily at his neck and over his ears. Unable to resist, he stepped out from behind the counter and swept the smaller man into his arms, cupping his face and leaning in for a kiss. It was quick- too quick for Negan’s liking, really, but he cherished the moment all the same. Every time he was able to kiss Rick, touch him in a close, intimate way that only he could, it made his chest ache with happiness.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he murmured into Rick’s ear, nosing at his jawline, “You know me. Always running my mouth.”

Rick’s eyes were pure warmth as he pecked Negan on the cheek. “I do. I do know you.”

* * *

Rick finally felt like he was acclimating to lie in Alexandria. Maybe because it was so calm- after the dust settled with Pete, nothing else had come up to make him feel like he was balancing on a knife's edge. Morgan’s mention of the Wolves still rattled around the back of his mind, but after a week of nothing, he was beginning to sleep easier at night. It certainly helped that Negan was always there, curled protectively around him like a lanky grizzly bear. It didn’t stop the nightmares every night, and sometimes he would still find himself tossing and turning and lying awake well into the late hours of the night, but it was better with Negan by his side. Even when the familiar creeping fear began to claw its way into his mind, he felt safe and comforted by Negan’s presence.

He felt frustrated sometimes with his progress- that it wasn’t always uphill. He took so many steps back and then forward again that he wondered if he was basically standing in one place. He had hoped that after he and Negan had been intimate for the first time that his fear surrounding sex would fade away quickly, but the next evening he found himself twitching away from Negan’s tentative explorations. When Negan pulled his hands away, looking concerned, he internally berated himself.

_It was so good_ , he tried to remind himself. _Why can’t I just do it again? I didn’t have to do a damned thing…_

His frustration must have shown on his face, because Negan softened, reaching out to take his hand and pressing a kiss to the soft skin on the underside of his wrist. “It’s okay, darlin’,” he said, “Really. I know it’s a lot. You take your time, alright? I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

It went back and forth like that, with him pulling away on some nights and pressing into the intimate touches on the others, letting Negan’s gentle caresses draw him out and work him over until he was panting into the curve of Negan’s neck and spilling right over the edge, taken apart by the sweet pleasure of Negan’s mouth or hands. He hated that his hands shook the scant times he’d tried to reciprocate, hated that he hadn’t been able to go further than letting his trembling fingers stutter uselessly against the waistband of Negan’s boxers.

Negan never asked him, never expected him to. Never got upset with him when Rick dropped his eyes in shame and stumbled out a _sorry_.

“I don’t fucking know why I can’t. It’s not like he made me- I’m not even trying to do- what he…” He gritted his teeth, hands in his lap. “I should be able to. I want to. I feel like a useless fucking tease, doing this to you-” Self-deprecation settled heavy in his chest, the heat of his anger overtaking the cautious, kindling embers of desire.

“Rick.” Negan pressed lips to his forehead, stroked his hair, twisting curling locks of it around his long fingers. “Don’t fucking do that. You have plenty of reason to not be okay with it. It’s alright. I’m telling you, I don’t fucking mind. I got two perfectly good hands.” He smiled wryly, “you know my hands can work some goddamned _magic_ , baby.”

At that, Rick laughed- and he loved Negan for that. He loved that even when he was feeling absolutely bleak, this man could drop some ridiculous or flirty line that could make him crack a smile.

Rick eyed the bulge in Negan’s shorts, brow furrowed. “I still feel selfish,” he admitted. “You- you just made me-" he blushed even at the memory of it, the evidence still slick and sticky against his stomach. "You’ve done a lot for me.”

“You’ve done so much for me, Rick,” Negan said, his voice resolute. “I mean it. I don’t give a single shit if you aren’t ready for this. You fucking took me in, you trusted me, you gave me a second chance in this shitty-ass hellhole of a world. Stop keepin’ score, darlin’. We’re not playing for points over here.”

When Negan turned to get out of bed and take care of himself in the privacy of the bathroom, Rick impulsively caught his wrist, dragging him back into bed. “Stay. You should- you should stay. I want to- if you’re gonna-” Fuck, he was sure his face was scarlet- he could feel the heat of it creeping over his skin. “I mean- if you want. I want to watch you.” He all but had to force the words out, but the look on Negan’s face- pure, unabashed heat- was worth the embarrassment of saying it aloud.

“Jesus fuck, Rick,” Negan breathed, lying back.

Rick liked watching him- liked seeing the way his face turned pink, how his mouth fell open, how his hips twitched up into his own hand.

“What do you think about?” Rick asked, the words tumbling out on impulse. Negan’s hand slowed, and he looked reluctant to speak for once.

“I, ah. I think about Lucille sometimes,” he answered quietly. “Sometimes I can’t, though. Get fucking sad, you know?”

“I know,” Rick said, and then- “What about the other times?”

“Rick, c’mon-”

“I want to know. Do you ever think about me?” He wondered if that was arrogant, somehow- to think Negan touched himself to the thought of him. He didn’t have to wonder for very long.

“Yeah,” Negan admitted, looking abashed. “Is that- would you rather me not?”

“No,” Rick said quickly, heat crawling across his face. “It’s alright.” In a fit of boldness, he leaned in a little closer, pressing himself closer into Negan’s warmth. “Tell me,” he whispered, “Tell me what you think about, when you think about me.”

Negan’s eyes went wide, swimming with hazy lust, and he did, murmuring in hushed tones as his hand worked. By the time he was done, Rick was hard and wanting, pressed needily against Negan’s hip, flushed all the way down his chest.

That night, when Negan offered to help him out again, he was all too eager to let the man take care of him.

* * *

Morgan seemed to be settling in well, Rick noticed. He meshed well with the Alexandrians. Rick had, admittedly, been keeping a close eye on him the first few days to see if he was really as recovered and sane as he appeared, but it had been unnecessary- Morgan really did seem to be a changed man. He’d taken up residence in one of the smaller apartment-style homes but didn’t seem to be isolating himself at all- Rick often saw him up and about, taking walks along the pond or practicing forms with his staff or up on the wall doing his part to keep vigilant watch over the neighborhood.

Rick had offered for Morgan to come stay with them after proposing the idea to Negan. It was a big deal, both because it would mean including someone else in their home and because Morgan would have taken Negan’s old room. And Negan had said as much.

“I trust him if you do, Rick. But if you change your mind- if you have a bad night or something, if you decide you want me out of your room…”

Rick had waved him off. “I know. And I’m not takin’ this lightly, Negan. I’m not looking to move too fast with this or get in over my head, but I’m in this for the long haul. I am. Bad nights or not.” He grinned wryly. “And besides. There’s always the couch.”

As it turned out, their concerns hadn’t been necessary- Morgan had opted to live on his own.

“That’s alright, Rick. Really, I appreciate it, but I don’t want to intrude. And anyway, I like havin’ my own space.”

Morgan spent most of his days outdoors, and Rick couldn’t blame him- it was really something, being able to just enjoy the warm summer weather without needing to worry about the constant threat of the dead. Right now, Rick spotted him on one of the benches by the lake, his staff a vigilant presence beside him. Rick took a glance at his watch- it was just past six, and he’d just circled back from his last patrol around the wall. He’d been about to head home, but Morgan would surely appreciate the company- they hadn’t gotten a chance to talk in-depth since he’d first arrived a week ago.

Morgan hummed a greeting as he saw Rick approaching, scooting over on the bench to make room. “Rick. It’s good to see you.” His warm eyes danced as he scanned Rick’s constable attire. “Brings back some memories. Not exactly the same as when we first met, but it’s pretty close, huh?”

Rick chuckled and settled down on the bench beside his friend. “Yeah. It’s strange, you know, being constable. Sometimes it just feels like I’m playin’ dress-up.” He laughed. “I feel like Carl, wearin’ my hat- I don’t know. It feels right sometimes, though. I had a lot of trouble when we first got here. Couldn’t settle down, couldn’t trust this place or the people. I still don’t sometimes- not because of them, because of what I’ve seen out there, what I’ve been through.”

Something curious and wary stirred behind Morgan’s eyes. “Yeah. I heard about what you did. With that man Pete.” There was an undercurrent to his voice- something not quite condemning, but still not approving. Rick frowned, turning to Morgan.

“It had to be done. It did. He was hitting his wife, his son- he would have killed them, and then what? People like that don’t belong in this world anymore. They just don’t.” He caught sight of a flicker of something on Morgan’s face, a fleeting look of skepticism. “What? You don’t think so? You think we should just let people like that- violent people, killers- live?”

Morgan was quiet for a moment, rolling his staff over in his hands. “I have come to believe,” he said, “that all life is precious.”

Rick blinked at him, confused. “So what does that mean? You don’t kill at all? Even if they’re a threat?”

“Not anymore, no,” Morgan answered calmly. “The man I told you about, the one that saved me- his name was Eastman. When he found me, I couldn’t hear that either, that all life was precious. I was a machine, taking down anything and anyone that got in my way. But all that killing- it weighed on me. Made me feel less human. Every time I did it, I was leaving a little piece of myself with the body.”

Rick thought back to Terminus- how the people there had become something base and inhuman, something nearly animalistic, stalking people to sate the hunger in their bellies. “There are worse things than killing, Morgan,” Rick said quietly. “And there are some people that deserve it.” Morgan’s face was wary, guarded, and Rick stood to take his leave. “I understand why you don’t. I guess I’m not asking you to. We have people to defend this place, people willing to kill if necessary. I don’t doubt your loyalty or your intentions, Morgan. You’re a good man, an honest one. But just understand that I can’t think like that. Not anymore.”

Morgan turned to him. “I’m not asking you to, Rick,” he reassured. “I’m not. I understand that it’s a lot to ask these days, and I know that you’ve been through a lot. I’ve talked to some of your group. Daryl, Carol, Michonne…they told me what you all have been through. The Governor. Terminus.” Rick’s jaw clenched of its own accord at the mention. “I’m not comin’ here askin’ you to change. I just wanted to let you know where I stand. I felt like you needed to know.”

Rick relaxed a bit at that, and offered Morgan a small smile. “Alright. Thank you. For tellin’ me. And I’m glad that you’ve found some peace, Morgan. It’s good to have you back with us.”

Morgan’s face broke into a smile at that. “It’s good to be back, Rick.”

* * *

Sometimes, when Rick really let himself relax, life almost seemed normal. Like tonight, coming home to see Carl and Tara and Michonne all sprawled across the couch and floor in his living room, comics scattered across the coffee table and the sounds of a handheld video game pinging though the air. They greeted him with noncommittal waves and grunted hellos, too engrossed in their fun, and Rick could only smile to himself. There was a plate of food waiting for him on the counter, and when he climbed the stairs, he could hear the delighted shrieks of Judith’s laughter coming from the hallway bathroom. Curious, he rounded the corner and peeked his head in to see Negan, mouth full and dripping toothpaste foam as he growled and crossed his eyes at a giggling Judith, who was seated on the counter.

“Well,” Rick grinned, “looks like he was bit, Judy. Gonna have to put him out of his misery. Doesn’t look so great, does he?” he cooed, swooping in and pressing a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. Negan choked, spluttering toothpaste down his chin, and Rick took some satisfaction in the way the taller man grew a little flustered, swiping at his foamy mouth. Rick felt a warm rush of affection for him, for this ridiculous, vulgar, wonderful man who made him dinner and pretended to be a toothpaste monster to make his daughter laugh. He folded himself into Negan’s space, one thumb wiping away toothpaste at the corner of his mouth before he leaned up and pressed their lips together in a cinnamon-mint flavored kiss that made his mouth tingle. He could feel Negan smiling into it, could practically see the way the corners of his eyes were crinkling even though his own were closed. He lingered close even when their mouths were parted. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were a complete asshole,” Rick mused, and Negan chuckled out a cinnamon breath.

“Good fucking thing you changed your mind,” Negan replied, licking his lips and swooping in to steal another kiss from Rick’s willing mouth. Rick’s hands drifted up to toy with Negan’s short hair, and he frowned.

“You already showered,” he noted with some disappointment as damp locks slipped between his fingers.

“I did,” Negan confirmed, looking amused. “That a bad thing? I was sweating like a goddamned sinner in church, you didn’t miss much.”

Rick slid an arm around Negan’s waist. “Wanted to join you,” he said, voice low and flirtatious. He liked that about Negan- that he could flirt and tease and the man understood that it was Rick’s way of testing the waters, not necessarily an invitation to something more. That was one of the best- and maybe most unexpected- things about being with Negan: he never pushed, not with this. Negan was a man who never held back with anything else- not when it came to fighting or his opinions or hashing things out with others. He was never a man to censor himself or mince words, and Rick loved that about him. He could absolutely be pushy, could work a person’s nerves until they were frayed as old rope, could wear people down if he disagreed with them. But when it came to this- to sex, to intimacy, he just let things be. He understood that a shower together was a shower together and nothing more, that them sharing a bed didn’t mean they would be having sex in it. For all of Negan’s brash, overpowering tendencies, he was always careful not to bulldoze over Rick.

Negan’s thumb traced Rick’s lower lip, something sweet and warm behind his dark eyes. “Aw, fuck, darlin’. Wish I would’ve known. Could’ve have you scrub me right the fuck up.”

“Hush,” Rick chided him with no real malice, nodding to Judith.

“Pretty sure you called me an asshole not even a minute ago, Rick,” Negan said, with a wide-eyed, innocent expression that didn’t remotely suit him. Rick laughed.

“You got me there.” He scooped Judith into his arms, breathing in her sweet, powdery baby scent. “She eaten and everything? You gettin’ her ready for bed?” As if on cue, the little girl yawned widely and cuddled against Rick’s chest, her eyes fluttering closed. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Negan ran a gentle hand over her head, his eyes full of affection. “Yeah. I was giving Carl the night off. Tara and Michonne just got back from a run with Glenn and apparently they found some game the three of them were all fuckin’ excited about.”

Rick felt a rush of gratitude toward Negan. Especially now that Ron and Carl seemed to be at odds- understandably so- Rick worried about Carl not getting the time to just be a kid. “Thank you. I got her from here.”

Negan grinned. “Yeah, now that she’s about asleep, you got her.” He pressed a kiss to Rick’s temple before he left the room, and Rick’s heart skipped in his chest.

Rick took his time getting Judith into bed- she wasn’t quite as tired as she’d seemed before, immediately sitting up and reaching for him again when he’d laid her in her crib. He’d immediately scooped her up again, rocking her on his hip for a few minutes before settling into the rocking chair by the window and pulling out a picture book to lull her to sleep again.

When Judith was snug and asleep and Rick joined Negan back downstairs, Glenn was there, chatting excitedly with Negan at the kitchen counter.

“Rick!” He beamed, a youthful giddiness in his eyes. “You and Negan are coming over tonight.”

Rick blinked, eyes darting between the two men in his kitchen and catching the not-at-all-subtle conspiratorial look they exchanged. “What’s going on?”

“Glenn found a little somethin’ out on his run-”

“Not a little something!” Glenn broke in excitedly, “A lot of something. A lot of tequila! We were searching this house and I found it in a locked cabinet- thought it was a gun in there or something, but it wasn’t.” Glenn grinned at him, huge and proud, and Rick couldn’t help but return it. In fact, he felt himself biting back on a laugh.

“You, uh. You already taste-tested it for us, Glenn?” he teased, eyeing the barest flush to the younger man’s cheeks. Glenn rocked back on his heels, a move that drew Rick’s mind to Negan and his way of dipping and leaning when he talked.

“I may have had a little on the ride back, yeah,” Glenn admitted without a trace of shame. “It was past five.”

Negan and Rick both snorted with laughter at that. “No shame in that, Glenny boy,” Negan said, clapping him warmly on the back. “So what do you say, Rick? Sounds like a damn good time to me. I don’t know about you, but I need some fucking _adult_ time. I love that little angel, but after an hour or two of reading the same book about a fuckin’ lost puppy over and over, I could use a drink. Sounds like he’s gonna try to get the whole damn group over there. Have some fun.”

Rick shifted from foot to foot. On one hand, it did sound like a hell of a time- and it would be nice to unwind with his friends all together. He’d seen plenty of them over the last couple weeks of being here, of course, but they were rarely all together at once. The only thing was- “What about the kids?” he asked. “Judith’s asleep upstairs, and Carl can’t come.”

Negan shrugged. “Sounds like you just answered your own question, Rick. Carl can stay here and watch Judy.” Rick’s discomfort must have shown on his face, because Negan reached out and drew him in a little closer, squeezing his arm where he held it in a gesture of comfort. “Rick, Carl’s a smart kid. Strong, more fucking capable than most of the adults livin’ here. He wouldn’t let a goddamned thing happen to her, you know that. And nothing’s going to happen. We’re gonna be right next door, and they’re in a big-ass house. Behind a big-ass wall. It’s not that late, plenty of people are still up. You can let yourself go for a few hours.”

Rick looked at Negan’s imploring face, and then to Glenn’s eager one. _Just a few hours, He told himself. I can give myself a few hours. I can let go for that long._

“Yeah,” he agreed, “You’re right. That sounds great.”

* * *

Negan was fucking _thrilled_.

He’d thought it would take a lot more to get Rick to give up his vigilant watch over their house for the night. He’d figured that it would take some cajoling and carefully constructed arguments as to why Rick shouldn’t be worried about his kids’ safety for a couple of hours so he could have fun. But no- Rick must have been feeling the burning need to get out of the house and let loose a little, because he simply explained the situation to Carl and let Negan and Glenn drag him next door.

Some of the others were already there when they came in- Michonne and Sasha were sitting close together on the far end of the couch, shoulders bumping as they sipped honey-colored liquid from short glasses. Rosita and Abraham were in a chair together nearby, Rosita’s legs draped over the arm. To Negan’s surprise, Daryl appeared to be talking to Aaron and Eric over the counter while Maggie poured them glasses from an impressively large bottle of tequila. She grinned up at them when she saw them approach the counter. “Hey, boys. Glad Glenn got you to come.” She slid glasses over to Aaron and Eric and then grabbed another two. “We don’t have much in the way to dilute it, unfortunately, so it’s basically just straight shots tonight unless you want it on the rocks. I told Glenn to keep an eye out for margarita mix when he goes out next.” She grinned and handed them their glasses, and Negan knocked his back quickly, relishing the warm burn the alcohol left behind. Rick followed suit, grimacing a little.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, and the sound of the curse coming from Rick’s lips did filthy things to Negan. “Been a long time since I’ve had a drink.”

“How long?” Maggie asked as she poured them each another shot, as well as one for herself. “I forgot you didn’t drink with us when we found that wine at the church.”

Negan tensed, wondering if the reminder of that night would spark something unhappy in Rick, but Rick shrugged it off. “Was too tense that night. Nah, I haven’t had a drink since…hell, it was back when we were all at the CDC. Way back in the beginning. Glenn ever tell you about that?” he asked, downing his second shot with more ease. Negan watched with hungry interest as his throat worked to swallow, his tongue flicking out to catch any drops left on his lower lip.

Maggie nodded, sitting back on one of the stools at the counter beside Daryl. “Yeah, he did. Said that was the first time he’d ever gotten drunk like that,” she chuckled to herself. “Said he woke up with one nasty hangover.”

Rick laughed at that, a throaty sound that was like a song in Negan’s ears. “Yeah, he did.”

“You were at the CDC?” Negan asked, intrigued. “When?”

“Pretty early on,” Rick replied, leaning a little into him. “We wanted to see if there was anyone there workin’ on a cure. Got there, and there was one man left. No cure. Whole place went into lockdown, actually- some kind of backup system that was in place to destroy the building in the event of a catastrophe. So nothin’ could get out, you know. Had to fuckin’ blow our way outta there with a grenade I’d found in that fuckin’ _tank_ -”

Negan laughed and sipped, remembering that particular part of Rick’s story from one of their long talks during the drive to Virginia. “Glad you got so fucking lucky out there at the beginning. Morgan and Glenn. Damn, those two saved your cute ass. I oughta write ‘em a fuckin’ thank you note.”

Rick grinned. “Maybe.” He turned to Daryl then, noticing his lack of a glass. “Not havin’ any?”

Daryl shook his shaggy head. “Nah. Figured someone’s gotta keep an eye on y’alls drunk asses. ‘Sides. I turn into kind of an asshole when I’m drunk.”

“He sure does!” A young female voice suddenly chirped from behind them. The four of them whirled around to see Beth and Noah, hand in hand, walking in with Tara. “Gets real mean. It’s alright, though. He’s a fun chaperone. Lets you play with matches an’ everything.” She teased, giving Daryl a friendly kiss on the cheek. Daryl rolled his eyes, but Negan thought he looked happier than he usually did.

“No matches tonight, kid.”

“No _nothin’_ tonight!” Maggie interjected, looking horrified. “Beth, Noah, what are you doin’ here?”

“Tara invited us,” Noah answered.

Maggie’s eyes narrowed at her friend from across the room. “Tara! Beth and Noah are too young to be here!”

Beth groaned before Tara could jump in to defend herself. “Maggie, I’m eighteen. I’m an adult. I’ve drank before, I’ll be fine. The world’s over, you’re not really gonna try to enforce dumb stuff like that, are you?”

Maggie shot Rick a look. “Ask the constable.”

If she thought that would work, she was sorely mistaken. Rick was three shots in and looking blissfully happy, snaking one strong arm around Negan’s waist. “She’s an adult, Maggie. Noah’s- how old are you, Noah?”

“I’m nineteen,” Noah answered with a grin.

“They’re both adults. Don’t see why they can’t have a drink or two,” Rick said, shrugging like the matter was settled.

Maggie looked wary. “I don’t know, Beth…”

“Aw, Maggie, c’mon. You can’t keep treatin’ me like a kid.”

Maggie’s face was a war of emotions far too complex for Negan to unpack with three shots in him, but she settled on resignation and pushed the bottle forward. “Fine. A drink or two. And we’re gonna be keepin’ an eye on you two, making sure nothin’…makin’ sure you behave yourselves.”

Beth rolled her eyes, but wisely decided not to push her luck. “Pour us one?” She asked, and Negan did, taking up the bottle and pressing glasses into their waiting hands before returning his attention to Rick.

“You two drink fuckin’ responsibly,” he called over his shoulder as he dragged Rick with him over to the living room. The couch was occupied by far too many people for them to squeeze in- including Gabriel, Negan noticed with a snort. He pulled Rick forward and against him until they both tumbled into an empty armchair, Rick warm and heavy in his lap. “Mm, would you look at this,” he purred, gazing lovingly up at Rick, taking in his hazy blue eyes and flushed cheeks. “Got a sweet fuckin’ kitten in my lap.”

He watched delightedly as Rick’s blush deepened and spread down his pale throat. “Shut up,” he grinned, hands coming to rest on either side of Negan’s neck. Negan felt his breath catch when Rick leaned into his body, eyes heavy lidded and full lips parted as he closed the gap between them and pressed their mouths together in a slow, wet kiss. The combination of Rick nestled in his lap and draped so warmly over him, their kiss, and the tequila had Negan feeling warm and eager to take what the other man had to give. He licked into Rick’s mouth, tasting the warm tang of tequila and the sweetness that was just inherently _Rick_ , and Rick’s hands wound into his hair, tightening. It was when he heard the smaller man moan softly into his mouth that his hands slid up to grip at Rick’s hips, arousal igniting in him like a kindled fire.

A loud whoop ripped Negan out of he and Rick’s cozy bubble, and they broke apart, faces flushed, to see half the room staring at them. Rick ducked his head shyly, and Negan shot a dangerous look at the whooper: Abraham.

“Butter my fucking backside and call me a goddamned biscuit, I knew it! Sasha, I believe you fuckin’ owe me two of those chocolate protein bars you’ve been hoarding.” He turned to Negan and Rick, dopey grin plastered across his face. “I _knew_ y’all were fuckin’.”

Negan felt Rick tense uncomfortably in his arms, felt the heat of the other man’s embarrassment radiating against his cheek, and it set off something fierce and explosive in his chest. His arms tightened around Rick’s waist protectively, pulling him in closer. “It’s none of your fucking business, you fucking prick-”

“Wait!” Glenn shouted suddenly from his place beside Maggie. “You two…are together?” He asked, eyes wide. “As in… _together_ together?”

Aaron blinked incredulously from Negan to Abraham to Glenn. “Are you both serious? You didn’t know? How long have you all been in a group together?” he laughed. “I knew they were together from when I first met them, are you really telling me that the rest of you didn’t know?”

Negan snorted. “This just happened a couple weeks ago, you couldn’t have known since you fucking met us.”

Aaron grinned slyly, sipping his drink. “I knew. I saw how you looked at each other. You’re living in his house, for god’s sake.”

“I knew.” Michonne chimed in, her dark eyes full of mirth. Sasha turned to face her, looking accusatory.

“And you didn’t tell me? That’s cold. You knew I had the bet with Abraham.”

Michonne laughed and pressed a kiss to Sasha’s temple. “Sorry. Felt like I was sharing confidential information. I’m no snitch.”

“Lawyer nonsense,” Sasha accused with a grin. “Should have guessed.”

Negan felt Rick relaxing a little against him, and he brushed a kiss against his shoulder. Glenn was still gaping uncomprehendingly, like he was trying to solve a particularly difficult math problem. “How much have you had to fucking drink, Glenn?” Negan teased, and Glenn laughed.

“Too much, probably,” he admitted. “But…hell, I didn’t even know you liked men, Rick. Not that it’s- not that it’s a problem! I just didn’t see it coming.”

Rick shrugged innocently. “It never came up.”

“When were you plannin’ on tellin’ us?” Maggie asked.

Rick ran a hand through his hair- his _long_ hair, Negan noticed distractedly. “I wasn’t tryin’ to keep it from you. It wasn’t like that. I just…I dunno. Figured eventually it’d just be obvious that that’s what was goin’ on with us.”

“Well, it definitely fucking is now that I’ve seen his tongue down your throat,” Abraham chortled. “Congrats, you two. Hope you keep his ass in line, Rick.”

For once, Negan didn’t feel like fighting Abraham. He just wanted to be close to Rick, so he leaned up and pulled the smaller man flush against his chest, arms tight around his narrow waist. “He does.”

The conversation took a turn toward Aaron and Eric then, the group wanting to get to know them since Daryl was the only one who they had gotten close with so far. Negan, content in his little bubble with Rick, half-listened to the conversation while he played with Rick’s hair. He ran his fingers through the soft, wavy curls, loving the way Rick shuddered and melted back against his chest when he pushed them out of the way to mouth at the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck.

“ _N-Negan,_ ” Rick breathed in a hushed whisper, fingers tight against the knee of Negan’s pants. Negan grinned, pressing another kiss to goosebump-covered skin as an idea formed in his head. He glanced down beside him, at the young couple cuddled together against the side of the armchair.

“Beth,” he whispered conspiratorially, “you got one of those…hair things?”

Beth blinked up at him, eyebrow quirked. “Hair things?” she giggled.

“You know,” he muttered, searching for the word, “the things that hold your hair back. The hair things.”

She laughed. “Oh! Yeah. This one’s actually Sasha’s, she let me borrow it earlier.” She held out a black elastic band to him, and he hastily took it, grinning.

“Good, she won’t miss it, then.” His hands found Rick’s hair again, fingers combing it back and scraping it into a wild, untidy bunch. With great focus, Negan wound the elastic around it tightly, and Rick shifted in his lap.

“What are you doin’?” He asked with a low chuckle, reaching back and brushing his fingers over the messy ponytail Negan had pulled his hair into. “The hell, Negan?”

“Shh,” Negan cooed, nuzzling into Rick’s neck again. “You look real cute, Rick.” At least, he did from behind, Negan thought. Then again, Rick always looked damn good from behind. “Better access like this.”

“Better access to wha-” Rick’s voice broke off in a small, choked noise when Negan’s lips teased his skin again. Negan could feel the heat of Rick’s blush, could smell the clean, soapy scent of his shampoo, and he was incensed, hands sliding up Rick’s chest to press their bodies flush together. Rick made a small, soft noise in his throat that sent heat spreading down Negan’s face and between his legs. The overwhelming urge to just rock his hips up into Rick from underneath clawed at him, and he forced himself to breathe in lungfuls of Rick’s comforting scent to ground himself. _He’s drunk. You’re drunk. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t do anything that’ll make him feel fucking shitty when he wakes up tomorrow._

Luckily for him, Rick made it easy. The smaller man stretched and yawned, cuddling up against Negan’s chest in a way that made him want to carry him straight home and tuck him into bed. “Negan,” Rick mumbled drowsily, “gonna fall asleep.” His drawl was honey-thick and sweet, and Negan chuckled, kissing his temple.

“Too much fuckin’ fun, Rick?”

Rick shoved at his shoulder, pushing up against his chest and working himself clumsily to his feet. “Shut up. C’mon, I need to get home. Check on the kids.” Negan looked up at him and his breath caught in his throat. The ponytail had been a damn good idea, he decided. Rick looked just as good from the front as he did from the back- a few loose, curling locks fell into Rick’s face, and Negan leaned up to cup the back of his neck.

“One for the road, darlin’?” He asked, eyes glued to Rick’s pink lips.

“You’re coming home with me, you fuckin’ dork,” Rick laughed, but he leaned down to kiss him all the same. The two of them waved and called their goodbyes to the others- Glenn and Gabriel had already nodded off, slumped and snoring on the couch.

On the short walk home in the warm nighttime air, Negan couldn’t help but notice how goddamned beautiful Rick looked in the moonlight. Couldn’t help but tell him when they hit the front porch, eyes full of wonder as he stared down at the man he’d fallen in love with.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Rick said with a lazy grin. “You’re gorgeous. You’re mine.” He bit his lip, something hesitant in his deep blue eyes, like he wanted to say something more. But he just shook it off, smiled. “C’mon. I’m tired. Get me in bed.”

And he did- after a quick check on the kids, who were safe and sound in their rooms. He and Rick stumbled into their room and shed their clothes, tumbling into bed together. Rick squirmed back against Negan's chest, hair tickling his cheek. Negan pulled Rick's hair free of the elastic and slid it around his wrist, kissing the back of his head. "Goodnight, darlin'. I love you."

He thought he heard Rick mumble a goodnight in return, but he was too far gone already, eyelids heavy with the sleep that soon overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story will be coming to an end soon! Right now I'm planning for two more chapters and *possibly* an epilogue, though the epilogue is a pretty big maybe. Unless these next couple chapters end up getting away from me and taking some unexpected turn, that's the plan. Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and liking and commenting, it means so much!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're now officially at 100k, woohoo!! I'm so psyched to have written something this long!

“Negan.”

Negan could barely hear Rick’s sleepy mumble through the downy muffle of the pillows and the way Rick was talking mostly into the back of his neck. The warm puff of breath sent goosebumps traveling down his arms, and the shiver only worsened when Rick’s warm fingers began to wander up his belly, stroking through the coarse hair there. Rick nuzzled closer, throwing a leg over Negan’s hip. “Negan,” he repeated, “you awake?”

Negan found Rick’s hand with his own, catching it and laying it atop the smaller one resting on his chest. “Yeah, darlin’. I’m awake. There somethin’ on your mind? Or are you just trying to be my fucking alarm clock?”

That bit of sass earned him a playful pinch to his nipple that shocked the hell out of him, hips jolting as he swore and his toes curled. “Rick! What the fuck?” He couldn’t even pretend to be upset, the laughter in his voice betraying him immediately. The soft brush of the pad of Rick’s thumb soothed away the pain- not that he’d particularly minded it- and left him breathing out a little more unsteadily.

“Not your damn alarm clock,” Rick muttered mutinously, but Negan just laughed again and rolled over, landing himself forehead-to-forehead with the man beside him.

It was mornings like this, he decided as he gazed into the vast blue of Rick’s eyes, that made him think that everything he’d done, everything he’d seen, everyone he’d lost, had been worth something. He could never be thankful for losing people, would never truly leave behind his love for Lucille, but with Rick here in his arms, looking over at Negan like he was something to be treasured, like he was something whole and beautiful and worthwhile, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming, all-consuming sense of relief that he’d made the choices that had led him here, to this man’s bed, to his arms. 

He'd spent so long thinking that there was nothing for him after Lucille, that the way the world had decided to give a massive middle finger to its inhabitants was fitting timing for him, because his life ended when hers did. But then there was Rick, curled around him looking like redemption and hope made flesh.

“Rick,” he breathed, a prayer of thanks, “you’re fucking beautiful.” Looking at him, the way he flushed pink at the praise, the way his blue eyes swam with adoration, he knew he would never get tired of it. Never get tired of _him_. He wound an arm around his trim waist, thumb rubbing over the soft skin of his lower back and dipping into the shallow dimples there. “I don’t know what I’d fucking do without you,” he confessed hoarsely, and just like that, it was like the floodgates opened. “For so long, after Lucille, I was just…fucking gone, Rick. I’d never been a perfect guy, not by a fucking long shot, but after she died, I felt like a part of me went with her.”

There was something about Rick that made him feel like he was safe to spill like this, to bare himself and be open in a way that never came easily to him before. He’d always been one to shy away from anything too deep, too terrifying, anything that could make him seem weak. He wore his vulgarity like armor, his tongue a guard dog against anyone trying to get too close, especially after the world fell apart. He’d spent so long equating feeling with weakness, but in rolled Rick fucking Grimes, baring himself to him that dark evening within the walls of Gabriel’s church, strong even as tears streaked his cheeks.

“Who do you think you’d be now?” Rick asked, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “If you hadn’t joined Abraham, if you hadn’t stayed with us, what do you think you’d be like?”

It was a fair question, Negan supposed, but he didn’t like to think about the answer. Didn’t like to remember how far gone he was, how much faith he’d lost in humanity as a whole. “You wouldn’t like me, darlin’,” he confessed, and even the thought of being someone that Rick hated made his stomach clench unpleasantly. “I was goin’ down a bad path before I met Red and Rosita and Eugene. I’d been out on my own too long, and I was like that by my own choice. I…I fucking pushed people away, got so sick of watchin’ them die right in front of me that I ran clear the other way. Only reason I went with them is because Abe was a man on a goddamned mission, and I could fucking _tell_ that he was gonna get Eugene to Washington. I wasn’t looking to get invested, I just wanted a ride.” His lips found Rick’s forehead, peppering the smaller man’s face with kisses. “I’m so goddamn thankful, baby. That I found them, that I found you. That you fucking kept me.”

Rick tilted his face up, capturing Negan’s mouth with his own. Rick kissed in a variety of ways, Negan had discovered: soft and sweet, quick and affectionate, shyly, openly. On occasion, there would be heat and hunger behind his kisses, tentative and reserved but unmistakable. The way he kissed Negan now, slow and messy, tongue and lips sliding, breaths shared between them, it felt like a gift. “You don’t need to thank me, Negan,” he said after a long minute, his words wet against Negan’s own lips, “you kept me, too.”

* * *

“Let’s go out,” Rick suggested on one warm afternoon as he and Negan sat together on the front steps of their porch, “just you and me.”

He was watching Judith crawl her way toward Carl on the front lawn, but he could still practically see the wide smile stretching across Negan’s face even without glancing his way. “You askin’ me out on a date, Rick?” A warm hand found his knee, squeezing it. “Gonna get all dolled up for me, darlin’? Wear your _fancy_ cowboy boots?”

Rick snorted. “Just got the one pair,” he grinned, “and it depends on what you wanna call a date, I guess. I’m just feelin’ restless in here, I’ve barely been out beyond the wall since we got here. I know you’re out there a lot for construction, but that’s not really the same, is it?”

“No,” Negan agreed, “it’s not. Fuck, that sounds great, Rick. Sounds like as much a date as any these days.” Negan’s arm snaked around his shoulders and pulled him in closer. “Tomorrow, then. You and me, baby.”

* * *

The next morning, Negan waited by the front gate with a small backpack supplied with a handful of granola bars, a canteen, and a fist aid kit. Rick had told him that he was going to grab a couple weapons from the armory, and when he saw Rick sauntering up to him, he fully expected to be handed a gun, not-

“Lucille!” He rushed Rick and gratefully accepted her, turning her over in his hands and making sure she hadn’t been scratched or her barbed wire hadn’t come loose. His throat felt thick suddenly- he’d depended on this bat for so long to keep him from spiraling into some sort of depressive state after his wife’s death. She’d been a crutch, always had been- fuck, he’d known it, too, known that she was a totem of sorts to the real Lucille. His dependency on her had been off-putting to the people he’d grouped with and borderline unhealthy at times- more than once, he had risked life and limb to retrieve her after having dropped her or left her somewhere unsafe. It was strange to think that these last several weeks he hadn’t felt that usual nervous itch in his fingertips that he’d developed when he wasn’t holding her. He’d thought of the real Lucille plenty, just casually, and he hadn’t even realized it. He’d spent so fucking long projecting all of the emotions tied to her onto a hunk of wood and metal, and the realization that he didn’t have to do that anymore- that he could think about her without feeling suffocating guilt and grief- made his throat thick.

Rick stood there in front of him, grinning he’d just given Negan the greatest gift. _And fuck_ , Negan thought, _he has._ All this time Rick had been thinking that Negan was the one helping him get over his shit, and he didn’t even know.

Negan lifted Lucille to his lips, ignoring Rick’s sudden lurch forward and shouted protests of, _“Not the barbed part, you idiot-!”_

He always liked the way the barbs kissed back, anyway. Left his lips red and swollen and wet. It was just a little prick, and then he lowered her to his side and drew Rick into him. “Thank you.”

He wondered for a moment if Rick would object to being kissed with bloody lips, if he’d reel back and wipe at his mouth. But Rick- fucking _Rick_ \- just kissed him back tenderly, tongue swiping over the cut. When he pulled back, there was a smudge of red on his lips, and Negan swayed forward, wiping it away with his thumb.

His breath caught when Rick took his thumb between his lips, licking him clean. In any other context, it would have been a deeply erotic gesture, and Negan probably would have found himself needing to adjust himself in his pants. But now- he couldn’t help but read it as Rick understanding the point of the initial bloody kiss.

_I am yours, my blood is yours, my heart is yours. I would bleed for you, and you would make it worth it, every time._

“Come on,” Rick’s voice broke through his thoughts, sunlight streaming through heavy clouds. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Rick loved his kids more than anything. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for them, no lengths he wouldn’t go to for their safety and protection.

But _goddamn_ , it felt good to get away every now and again. To have some time, just he and Negan, no kids to worry about, no patrols to run, nothing but the two of them and the forest. They’d decided to go a little ways north of Alexandria, since everything they’d seen on their trips beyond the wall thus far had been to the south. It was more of the same, really, all dense woodland, but it was oddly peaceful all the same. He and Negan walked hip to hip, bumping shoulders, resting in comfortable silence.

With the exception of a few times like this where he had just needed some fresh air and time to himself, Rick hadn’t been out much lately, at least not on his own. He’d taken up gun training outside the wall a few times, but they never wandered far, and in a setting like that he didn’t feel very free to roam. It wasn’t so much that he missed being out here that he was worried about getting rusty- the last thing he needed was to get complacent and forget about the very real threat looming outside the gates.

A telltale snarl bounced off the trees up above, and Rick had his axe raised instantly, relieved to see that that particular reflex had stuck. Negan hefted Lucille up, fingers tightening on her handle as they exchanged glances and gingerly stepped toward the sound.

A single walker stumbled out from the brush, all rotting limbs and long, tangled hair full of twigs. Negan bounced on his heels beside Rick. “Dibs!”

Rick shot him a look that he completely missed for how quickly he darted forward, swinging Lucille in a wide arc that caught the walker squarely in the side of the head. The force sent it straight into a nearby tree, its skull cracking like an egg between the bat and the bark. Negan wrenched Lucille back, slinging a bit of grayish brain matter and flesh, his face alight with glee as he turned to Rick. “Damn, that felt good! Haven’t gotten to do that in fucking _ages_. They always have us take guns out on construction. Faster, you know, better if we get snuck up on, but we hardly ever get any action out there, and I’m pretty sure Abraham is trying to fucking rot-block me with the dead guys. He gets to kill almost all of ‘em.” He grinned, returning to his place beside Rick and walking in step with him again. “Even then, there’s something more fucking satisfying about doing it up close like that, you know? Not quite with your bare fucking hands, but closer than you can get with a gun.”

For all Negan had grown, there was still that destructive drive in him, something both childlike and decidedly _not_. Kindling embers of something molten and powerful.

Rick loved that about him, found himself drawn to his flame, loving how warm it kept him, how alive it made him feel.

“Yeah,” he agreed, fingering over the blade of his hatchet, “I know.” The cracking of twigs and another snarl saw both of their head whipping to the side, and this time, Rick decided to play the game. “This one’s mine,” he said, and he felt himself returning Negan’s wide grin. He wove between the trees, coming up on the walker from the side and striking it brutally right across the top of the head. He jerked the axe back out of the bone with both hands, kicking the thing full in the chest and watching it collapse to the ground.

Negan bounded up, whistling long and low. “God _damn_ , Rick!” He nudged the crumpled body with a booted foot, sounding impressed. “You just about took that fucker’s face clean off. You always do that cute-ass little kick when you pull the axe back out? Fuck, I’m not gonna lie, darlin’, that’s pretty hot.”

Rick snorted and shoved his shoulder, trying to cover for the pleased flush of pink coloring his cheeks. “Shut up. Let’s keep goin'.”

Negan rocked back on his heels, eyes sweeping up and down Rick’s body. “Sure thing, Rick. How about we start ourselves a little wager here, though? Some friendly fucking competition. Whoever takes out the most dead ones by the time we get back gets the last one of those cookies Carol made.”

It was impossible to say no to him when he was like this, wide-eyed and bouncing around like a rabbit. He was all toothy grins and mile-long legs, and he was looking at Rick like a kid who wanted nothing more than for their best friend to play along.

“Yeah, alright. I’m game.”

And, of course, since Negan was never one to be outdone, the next hour was spent with them tracking down and killing walkers, competing for more creative kills each time. Negan managed to take out two at once with Lucille, and Rick responded by beheading one completely and cracking its skull beneath the heel of his boot while Negan looked on with fascinated glee. Negan turned one’s head to a rotten mush in the dirt, and Rick had sliced clear through one’s jaw and accidentally knocked out its teeth as it tried to bite down on the blunt end of his hatchet before ending it with a blow to the temple.

It was when Negan suggested that he could climb into a tree and launch a sneak attack on an incoming walker that Rick finally had to turn him down.

“Negan,” he laughed, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket- why the man insisted on wearing the damned thing in what was probably eighty degree heat was beyond him. “No. We should probably head back soon, and anyway, if you do that, you’re gonna break both your legs.”

Negan attempted a truly laughable fake pout before slinging an arm over Rick’s shoulders and kissing the side of his head. “Got no fuckin’ faith in me, Rick. I’m fucking offended. You look me in the eyes with them sweet baby blues and tell me that shit wouldn’t have been badass.”

Rick craned his head to look up into Negan’s glinting hazel eyes. “It would have been badass,” he conceded, “’til you broke your fucking legs. Now come on. That last one left me a damn mess.” He’d tried to get the worst of it off, and it was mainly concentrated on his neck and chest, but still. He’d been working on two at once, and one had ended up on top of him, snarling and snapping. Negan had been just about to take it out, but Rick gotten there first, sinking his bare hands into the thing’s softened skull through its eyes sockets. The end result was effective, if impractical and messy, and he was now spattered with sticky blood.

“You smell like one of ‘em,” Negan commented as they began to walk back, and Rick wrinkled his nose.

“Fuck, I know. Reminds me of when Glenn and I did this to get out of a tight spot in Atlanta.”

Negan turned to look at him, eyebrow quirked. “Did what? Made deadies burst with your bare hands?”

Rick shook his head. “No. We used the insides to mask our smell. Put on an extra layer, smear it with the guts, and it’ll keep the dead off of you if you’re quiet and don't move too fast.”

“Holy shit,” Negan breathed shaking his head in awe, “Rick Grimes, as I fucking live and breathe. You’re one smart motherfucker, you know that? Shit, that’s hardcore. That really works? Did you know that goin’ into whatever mess you and Glenny boy were in?”

“I, ah. I hoped it would,” Rick grinned sheepishly, and Negan guffawed, squeezing him tighter.

“ _Fuck_ , you little badass. I’m pretty sure hearing you talk about shit like that makes me love you even more. No wonder you had these people followin’ you like the goddamn apostles. You don’t fuck around, do you? Rippin’ people’s throats out with your teeth and covering yourself in guts pretendin’ to be a walker. Shit, my man’s so fucking smart-”

Negan’s praise was abruptly cut off by the blaring noise of what sounded like a car horn, long and loud and continuous through the treetops. They both stiffened in fear, and it took Rick less than a moment to shake off his terror and break into a furious run, Negan right on his heels. “It’s coming from the south, it’s not far, _it’s coming from home_ -” They weren’t that far out, and Rick’s gun was already out of his holster and in his hands. He hadn’t really thought he’d need it, and had opted for the hatchet all afternoon to save bullets, but he felt safer with it in his grip, heavy and solid and cool to the touch.

_Carl. Judith. Michonne, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie-_

No. No, he insisted, he couldn’t let himself think like that, not now. For all he knew, one of the cars parked out front could have just gotten hit the wrong way by a walker or something…

As Alexandria’s walls began to come into view, he and Negan slowed to a low creep between the trees, weapons poised and ready to strike if necessary. From the north like this, the gate was out of view, but the horn was blaring far too close for Rick’s comfort.

“It’s coming from here,” Negan whispered in his ear, voice tight. “Rick-” he broke off suddenly and was tackling Rick to the ground, body on top of his. Rick grunted, trying to get up, but Negan bore down, fingers tight at his shoulder. “Don’t move,” he hissed low in his ear.

Rick realized why a moment later, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a raggedly dressed man charging the wall, scaling it and launching himself over. He was followed by two more, and Rick shook, feeling sweat prickle at his hairline and drip down into his collar.

 _People_. People were here, invading their home, slaughtering them from the inside. His breath grew ragged, fingers scrabbling at the dirt as the panic set in. People were here, and his kids were inside, and he was flat on his stomach, a heavy weight pressing him down from behind.

 _Not fucking now_ , he thought, and he made a noise in his throat, completely unbidden, biting down so hard on his lower lip that he could taste the sharp iron tang of blood.

Negan was off of him in an instant, rolling away and to his feet, eyes wide. “Shit, shit, fuck-” Rick pulled himself up out of the dirt, scanning the area for any more of the invaders. “Rick, shit, I’m sorry, I wasn’t fucking thinking, I just saw them and fucking _moved_ -”

Rick shook his head, hair falling in his face. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that. “No. No, it’s alright, Negan. Thanks for getting me down.” Negan looked like he wanted to say more, but Rick cut him off. “Come on. We’re following them over the walls. Not wasting time going around to the gate. That sounds like it’s where the horn is coming from, anyway. Something that loud is probably drawing in the dead.” He ran at the wall, scaling it using the metal supports, and hoisted himself up. Negan was beside him, Lucille still in hand, and when they dropped down on the other side, they could already hear it: screaming, the sounds of gunfire and shouts of terror and rage from every angle, no longer muffled by the steel walls and blaring horn. Fear welled up in Rick’s chest, choking him, calling him to arms.

“Take them all out, no questions asked. You see any of them, don’t fucking hesitate.” Negan gave a soldier’s nod and they both took off toward the street, side by side. A man came screaming at them from off a porch, and Rick lurched back and fired, staying in place only long enough to watch him collapse lifelessly to the ground and catch a glimpse of the letter carved deeply into his forehead:  _W._

A woman- and Alexandrian- ran out into the alley between the houses in front of them, screaming in agony, a deep gash from her right shoulder all the way down her chest staining her a brutal red. Another Wolf tore after her, and then Negan was on top of him, beating him bloody with Lucille. “Fuck, _fuck_ -” he was spattered with red, and when Rick rounded the corner to peer out into the street, everything was a blur of movement. He couldn’t make out individual people, just frantically running bodies.

He couldn’t tell who was falling when shots were fired or blades were swung, and he felt sick for it. “The kids-” Rick choked out, stumbling into the front yard, frantically searching the warring bodies for the familiar long hair and sheriff’s hat. “ _Carl-_ ” Negan gripped his shoulder, trying to calm him.

“Rick, don’t, you _can’t_ , they’re fine, you know Carl’s probably boarded himself up in the house with Judith, he’d never let anything happen to her.” He grabbed Rick by the collar, yanking him until he was pressed against the side of the house. Their breaths were both coming in short pants. Louder than the horn, Rick could hear the wails of the dying woman a few yards away, ragged, pained sounds that devolved into gurgling. He squeezed his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

_Fuck, fuck-_

He could see her face, pale as death save for the blood bubbling up from her lips. Fuck, he didn’t even know her _name_ -

“Can’t save them all,” Negan said, his voice steel. “You just can’t. Shit fucking happens, it fucking does. Come on, Rick. I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine. Let’s get out there and kick these fucksticks’ asses right out of here.”

Rick nodded, clearing his head with a brusque shake. _You’ll have time to bury your dead later. After you save this place, after you take it back._ With one final deep breath, they charged into the street, launching themselves at the invaders with everything they had. With a brutal cry, Rick ripped one of the Wolves off of a man- Tobin, he knew this one’s name- and sank the blade of his axe into the attacker’s skull.

“Thank you, _Jesus_ -” Tobin breathed, stumbling to his feet, “I don’t know that the hell happened, one minute everything was fine and the next, they were just here, everywhere, and that horn-” A harsh cry from behind them sent them both turning on their heels just in time to see Negan taking Lucille to a Wolf, grunting with the exertion as the bat split the woman’s skull and tore open flesh. Further down the street, Rick caught sight of Morgan, who looked to have-

No. No _fucking_ way.

Rick charged down the street, dimly aware of Negan shouting his name after him. He came to a grinding halt in front of Morgan, his gun raised at the Wolf the man was leading whose wrists were bound behind his back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rick hissed, “You takin’ captives? _Now?_ Morgan, there are bodies in the _street_ , the bodies of the people who live here. We’re not leaving any of these people alive.”

“Rick,” Morgan started, “we can keep him here, keep him locked up, a prisoner, it doesn’t all have to be bloodshed-”

At that moment, another Wolf swept up from behind Morgan, knife raised, and Rick fired without thinking twice, hitting the man squarely in the forehead, a neat bullet hole now adorning the W carved there.

Another shot fired, and the bound Wolf was on the ground, eyes wide and lifeless as blood pooled around his head. Morgan met Rick’s eyes, and Rick didn’t falter. “We don’t leave any of them alive.”

“Rick.” Negan’s voice pulled him back, and he turned to meet the man’s dark eyes. “Come on, we need to fucking get to the house.”

Rick left Morgan with one final weighted look before he followed Negan down the street. The worst of it seemed to be dying down, he realized. The horn had stopped, the shouts dimming down.

That was the good news. The bad news was that the eerie post-battle quiet settling in let Rick focus on the carnage in the street.

A lot of them were Wolves, and he took comfort in that. He said a silent prayer of thanks that they’d started training the people here so soon, because the majority of the bodies lying scattered on the lawns and streets had W’s on their foreheads.

There were also a lot that didn’t. Not as many, but as he and Negan made their way to their house, he recognized several faces lying bloody and ashen on the ground. A woman named Shelly that Carol used to swap recipes with, a man named Luke that Rick had taught to shoot a gun not four days ago.

He wasn’t sure which was worse- seeing the faces of Alexandrians he recognized, or ones he didn’t. He wasn’t close to any of them, not like he was with his group, but he couldn’t help but feel a strong wave of guilt at the unfamiliar faces bleeding out on the sidewalk. _I'm supposed to be protecting them, and I can't even identify their corpses._   _If they’d been trained, would they have made it? If we’d gotten here faster, if we’d had more lookouts, if-_

“Rick.” Negan’s voice was tight, hoarse. His grip was a clammy vice on Rick’s wrist, stilling him.

The front door to their house stood wide open, a gaping mouth that held god-only-knows-what inside of it. Rick’s throat and eyes burned, a broken cry escaping his chest.

_Carl, Judith-_

He didn’t remember swallowing down the bile rising in his throat and charging across the road and up the front porch steps, but suddenly he was in the doorway, gun raised, seeing red in a way that he had only when Carl’s life had been threatened before, by those men that night in the road.

They had Carl, Ron, their friend Enid cornered in the living room. Three of them, swathed in ratty dark clothing, bloodied machetes and knives clenched in grimy fists, and Rick could see them so clearly down the barrel of his gun.

Ron sucked in a fearful breath, eyes looking past the Wolves to Rick, and suddenly their attention was no longer on the three teenagers, but on him.

Rick fired rapidly, the blast of the revolver deafening in the quiet of the house, and he wasn’t sure if he managed to hit them before they were on him, trapping him on the ground on his back, the gun skittering out of his grasp and across the floor. Something warm and wet dripped onto his face- _blood?_ \- and for several paralyzing moments, all he could see was a flurry of filthy W-encrusted faces hovering over him, the flash of blades that the was trying desperately to hold back from his body.

_I don’t want Carl to have to watch me die, please, god, don’t let me die here in front of him-_

Red suddenly soaked through his vision, blinding him. The weight on top of him was gone, and he scrambled to his knees, rubbing the fresh blood out of his eyes just in time to see Negan and Lucille working to splatter the living room walls with the brain matter of one of the men attacking him. “Piece of shit, you fucking fucker, you don’t fucking _touch_ him, you don’t fucking touch those kids, you fucking _fuck_ -” He was screaming, swearing, invested in his kill. Rick launched himself at the second one- the third he’d apparently hit with his initial gunshots, as he was crumpled on the floor.

He thought that was the last of them, which was the only reason when he allowed himself to get distracted by the way his hatched split open the skull of the man under him. Everything was red, and Carl was okay, and as soon as he finished here it would all be over, he thought.

Carl was shouting something, but Rick could barely hear it over the rush of blood in his ears, deafening him.

It was the jarring _thunk_ of wood-on-wood that made his head snap up from his kill.

Lucille was on the ground, clattering from Negan’s fingertips.

The scene was a puzzle, all estranged pieces of something larger that Rick’s brain refused to put together into a whole: Lucille on the ground, barbs scratching the hardwood floor. Carl, stumbling back like he’d been shoved, Ron and Enid catching him by the elbows. A fourth Wolf, snarling like the animal he’d taken the name of, a knife flashing silver in his fist.

Negan’s strong hands, no longer clutching at his beloved Lucille, but grasping at his throat as crimson flowed between his fingers.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it- the last chapter! I can't tell you all how much it means that you've stuck with this story for so long- seriously, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. It means so much, especially since there were long periods with this fic where I was absolutely sick of it and ready to be done. When I started this way back in February (!!!) I planned on making this a quick thing in between longer fics, and it turned into...the longest thing I've written so far, which I did not see coming at all. 
> 
> Also- sorry for the longer wait with this final chapter, especially give the cliffhanger in the last chapter- the wait was not intentional! I really wanted to get this chapter out fast because cliffhangers suck, but between Regan week and my other fic and life, it got pushed back a little.

How Negan managed to break the Wolf’s leg with his throat cut, Rick couldn’t have guessed. But he did, Rick watching him as if he was underwater, feeling frighteningly paralyzed, his limbs leaden and useless at his sides.

It was the sickening crack of bone that snapped him out of it, like he’d been dragged to the surface for air. Rick moved, diving to grab his abandoned gun and then looking up to see Negan sinking to the floor, rolling off of the wolf, whose leg was twisted and bent unnaturally at the kneecap. The man hissed in pain, a wounded animal snarling and scraping against the bloodstained floor. Negan’s collar was similarly soaked, his white shirt stained scarlet. His breathing was all wrong, ragged and shallow, and there was too much fucking blood, painting everything a sticky, sickening shade of red. 

When Rick dropped knees into the Wolf’s chest, he saw that same red adorning the twisted face in droplets.

Negan’s blood.

All he could think was that this fucking _animal_ didn’t deserve to wear the blood of the man he loved.

When he killed the man, it was with his fists, beating him mercilessly until he could feel his fingers breaking, pain shooting up his arms as the fragile bones snapped and shifted under his torn skin. When his battered hands couldn't take any further abuse, he used the butt of his revolver.

He had to finish him off under the heel of his boot, but he liked that, too. Negan’s blood couldn’t be seen anymore, not under the tide of the Wolf’s tainted blood.

The whole thing took under a minute in his frenzy.

“Dad! _Dad!_ ” Carl was screaming, shaking him, his lanky frame half-collapsed under one of Negan’s arms. “Help me! We have to get him to Denise, dad, you need to _help me!_ ”

Rick was a machine, everything in him screaming under extreme duress, gears spinning out of control and smoking. _The task at hand, focus on the task at hand. One foot in front of the other._

He groped blindly at the ground for the handle of his axe, grasping painfully when his fingers met wood. couldn’t look at Negan until the man’s weight was strung up over he and Carl’s shoulders and they were out the door. He couldn’t, he couldn’t bear to look and see if-

No.

The blood wasn’t spraying, he noticed. It dripped freely down onto the porch and the road as they rushed toward the infirmary, leaving a trail, but it wasn’t spraying. That was good, right? That had to mean _something_ -

Enid was the one to beat down Denise’s door, and Carl was the one to shout into the crowded infirmary that _Negan’s hurt, his throat got cut, Denise-!_

Rick couldn’t form words, mouth opening and closing dumbly as he held the man’s weight on his shoulders. Denise charged over, looking every bit the role of competent battle medic, and if there was a tremor in her careful hands, Rick couldn’t have distinguished it from the one in his own.

“Put him here, lay him right here, Rick.” She took Negan’s other shoulder from Carl, helped Rick get him onto the table stretched out in the middle of the room.

Rick couldn’t help but notice that the table was spattered with a not-insignificant amount of fresh blood. And it was then, seeing Negan lying there lifelessly on the table, a long sliver of red dividing the neck that he’d cried into and kissed so many times, that Rick broke.

When the sobs came ripping out of him, guttural and broken, Rick realized that his face had already been wet. Denise was calling out orders to the others in the infirmary- _Tara, grab me an IV, Heath, get that suture kit over there, Spencer, will you-_

Carl’s arms were around him, pulling him back from Negan, and he lurched forward away from the embrace and then sagged against it. “Dad, _dad_ , you need to let them help him, you need to back up…”

He’d never told Negan that he loved him. That thought occurred to him as he watched Tara and Heath strip Negan of his jacket and slide an IV needle into his forearm. He’d kept telling himself he was waiting for the right fucking moment, kept wanting it to be so perfect, and he’d ended up never saying it at all.

He said it now, pulling forward, cradling the sides of Negan’s head in his hands, pain throbbing through his broken fingers. “I love you.” It sounded ugly, his voice thick with tears and dripping snot. “I love you, _I love you_ , I’m sorry-”

Denise’s hands were on his shoulders then, and he couldn’t even feel them. “Rick, please, I know, but you have to let us work, okay?” Her voice in any other scenario would have been soothing, sweet. It was nothing but noise right now, but he clung to it anyway, a lifeline, hope. “You have to let us help him.” Her gaze caught on Rick’s battered hands, and she faltered. “Rick, those are broken, I need to set them-”

“No!” He yelped at the suggestion, the idea of his hands, his insignificant pain being the reason that Negan slipped away was unbearable to him. “Help him,” he repeated, pawing desperately at her sleeve. “Please, save him-”

Denise nodded, moved toward the table “Okay. Just- Carl, get him back here as soon as you can. I’ll let you know when- when I can see someone else. I need to set those.”

Carl nodded, and Rick moved back toward Negan. He dipped his head, kissed Negan’s forehead. It was clammy, damp and salty with sweat. Carl’s arms were around him again, drawing him back from the table.

On the front porch, he remembered that there was a larger world still.

“Carl,” he rasped, “Judith, is she…are you…?”

“She’s okay, dad.” Carl’s hand stayed in the center of his back, warm and comforting like Rick always did with him when he was afraid. “She was upstairs with Sam and Jessie. They’re okay.”

Rick didn’t know how he ended up with Lucille in his hands- he hadn’t realized that he’d grabbed her off the ground before he and Carl had carried Negan to the infirmary, but she was there suddenly, heavy and grounding in his hand even with the pain that shot though the broken bones at the strain. Feeling the weight of the bat, he remembered it- groping for a weapon on the floor, not finding his axe but wrapping a fist around Lucille’s handle. “Stay by me. Don’t leave my side,” he told Carl, and the boy nodded.

He wanted blood, and he would have it. He would kill every last one of them that was still alive, burn their bodies until they were nothing but ash and blackened bone.

There were three out on the street, almost at the wall. Running, trying to make a getaway. He pulled his gun, fingers screaming in protest as he pulled the trigger and they fell, one by one, clutching at the legs he’d shot out, gasping as they squeezed and tried to staunch the pain and bloodflow from the ragged wounds.

He recalled Negan’s words from earlier that day. _There’s something more fucking satisfying about doing it up close like that, you know? Not quite with your bare fucking hands, but closer than you can get with a gun._

Oh, Rick knew. He couldn’t take all three of them apart like he had with the man who had attacked Negan- his hands were too mangled for that, but he could at least have the satisfaction of watching their heads cave in under the weight of Negan’s prized weapon.

As soon as the first blow connected, he understood why Negan favored her so much- that initial _rip-crack-splatter_ of skin and skull and brain matter was something else entirely. It fed something vicious inside of him, something rage-fueled and guttural and _thirsty_. It was a weapon that allowed the wielder to revel in the kill, and that’s exactly what he needed. Catharsis, blood poured out to cover Negan’s wounds. It was the closest thing to righteous, almost religious vengeance he’d felt in a long time. As he swung, he recalled the church they'd found Gabriel in, moonlight filtering through stained glass, the swing of a blade over and over into what used to be a beast of a man. 

The bodies were nothing when he was done- blood and gristle and shards of bone, and Carl had to pull him back, pull him away.

“ _Dad_ ,” he warned, pointing at the front gates where the dead were clawing and banging alarmingly, drawn in by the sounds of gunshots and the blaring car horn. The gate rattled alongside the walls beside it, weakened by the impact of the truck, and Rick could picture it- wave two, the dead streaming into Alexandria while they were already off their guard and rattled. He glanced at the bodies still bleeding out on the ground beside him, a half-formed plan taking shape in his mind.

He went for the smallest one, a slim man probably not much taller than Carl. He reached down and heaved the corpse in a fireman’s carry over his shoulders, charging up to the front gates and coming to stop by the ladder that led up to the lookout platform. “You go up first,” he told Carl. “If I start looking like I’m gonna drop him, try to grab him and pull him up.”

“Dad, what are you-”

“Just do it. You’ll see. You have a gun?”

“Yeah.” He patted the holster on his hip. “Always.”

“Good. Go.”

Carl went, climbing the ladder quickly. Once he reached the top, Rick followed, grunting under the weight of the man on his shoulders and the way his hands bore the brunt of the work in climbing. He almost slipped near the top, just three rungs away, but Carl grabbed at the body and hauled it up to the platform, freeing him to climb the rest of the way up. Once there, he straightened and looked out at the damage.

It could have been worse- a box truck had slammed into one of the front walls, denting it so that the dead could see inside and stick their arms through, but couldn’t yet get in. It seemed to be holding for now, but he wasn’t about to run the risk of it collapsing. The dead were too many to count outright- around forty or fifty, he would guess. Nothing completely unreasonable, but nothing he wanted getting in when there were people injured and afraid behind the walls.

“Help me get him up.” Carl nodded and helped him haul the wolf’s body up so that it slumped halfway over the wall. “We’re gonna dump him over, and then we’re gonna kill as many as we can while they’re distracted. I’ll go over the wall, you stay up here. When you run out of bullets, go get help. I can’t take them all out on my own.”

“Dad, what the hell? No, that’s stupid. You’re not going out there alone.”

“No,” a voice suddenly interrupted, “he’s not.”

Michonne’s head popped up from the ladder, looking sweaty and blood-streaked and determined. “I’ve got Sasha and a some of the others down there ready to fight. You’re not going out there alone, Rick. We’ve got this. We’ve _all_ got this. You’re not going over the wall. We have enough people- we’ll open the gates. We won’t let them come in.”

Rick couldn’t manage a smile, not under the circumstances, but Michonne’s words were the closest thing he felt to hope. “Alright. Carl, let’s do this.”

Together, they shoved the wolf over, his body hitting the ground with a cracking thud. The effect was immediate, chum in the water, and the dead swarmed hungrily.

“Alright, go!”

Carl began firing into the teeming swarm, and Rick all but slid down the ladder after Michonne. The gate was open before his feet hit the pavement, people swinging weapons and taking out the undead one by one as they stumbled into their paths.

Michonne pulled him to her side, the two of them and Sasha forming a circle back-to-back as they cleared out the walkers coming at them.

Michonne had been right, when all was said and done- they hadn’t let any of them come in further than a few feet beyond the front gate. Lucille’s barbs were heavily tarnished with walker guts, and as the adrenaline began to wear off, she suddenly felt too heavy in his aching hand. The bat slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground, and even as she did Rick felt a pang of guilt. _Negan hates it when she gets dropped…_

He groped for the handle, wincing, and Carl pulled him back again, picking her up himself. “Dad. It’s over. It’s okay. Come on, you need to get your hand fixed.”

Michonne turned toward him at that. “What happened to your hand?” She took one look at the awkward angle of the broken fingers and met Rick’s face with concern. “Rick, what happened to-”

“Negan got attacked,” he ground out, and saying it was like shards of glass tearing through him, the pain of it making it seem too real. “He’s- I don’t know if…” he stared down at his mangled hands. “I killed the guy who did it.”

“Go,” she said, jerking her head toward the infirmary. “Get fixed up. We’ve got this.”

Rick let himself be guided back to the infirmary by Carl, holding his breath for what he would inevitably see when he got inside.

He wasn’t prepared for it, though. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready to see Negan laying still and bloody on the table, a row of neat black stitches holding together the slash across his throat. He made a noise at the sight of him- something broken and agonized, and Denise whirled around at took him by the shoulders, guiding him to sit.

“Rick, calm down. I’m gonna set your fingers, alright? Don’t move-”

“Is he gonna be- is he…?” He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

Denise bit her lip, looking torn. “I…I don’t know, Rick. He lost a lot of blood, and I’m not gonna sit here and tell you that he’s definitely going to be fine, because I just…don’t know right now. They missed the carotid artery, and that was lucky for him, but I’ve never done stitches in a spot that tricky before, and the cut was pretty deep…I did everything I could. I did. Now all we can do is wait, okay?” She took his hand between her own. “You need to let me set these, Rick.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. He felt Carl’s hand on his shoulder, felt the painful shifting of broken and displaced bones beneath his skin as Denise’s deft hands worked them back into place. His eyes were set on Negan laying out on the table just a few feet away, Tara and Heath gently pressing gauze and bandages into place to cover up the stitches. It was better, having them covered up. The stark, jagged lines of the stitches were so jarring to see against the skin of Negan’s tan throat. Rick swallowed hard, thinking of the times he and Negan had laid in bed together, his own lips pressed to the tender skin of Negan’s neck. Negan had always been so gentle with him, and he’d been the same way in return, too tentative with his sexuality to bring anything other than softness to their bed. Now, all he wanted was to have Negan in his arms, to suck and kiss and bite possessive marks into his skin to cover up the ugliness and pain of the wound.

_All the things we’ve never gotten to do…all the things that I’ve never gotten the chance to say…_

After Denise got done wrapping up his hands- three fingers broken in all- the only thing that got him to leave the infirmary was Judith. He and Carl returned home to find her, as Carl had said, safe and sound with Jessie. Rick had gladly taken her into his arms, careful of his aching hands. He buried his nose into her soft hair, breathing in her sweet, powdery baby scent deeply, hoping that it would calm him.

“Thank you. For watchin’ out for her.”

Jessie smiled grimly and nodded. “Of course. I…I heard about Negan. I’m sorry, Rick.” She looked like she really meant it, too. Rick swallowed hard, the condolences painful. He couldn’t manage words, just a shaky nod.

With Judith safe and secure and Michonne leading the others in a sweep of the town to make sure that all of the Wolves were gone, Rick had only one place he wanted to be.

Denise didn’t object to him pulling up a chair beside Negan’s bed in the infirmary, Carl and Judith in tow. They were quiet and out of the way of her working- stitching wounds and bandaging limbs. There was the limp body of a woman on one of the tables, and by the look of the knife wound at her temple, she had been much less fortunate than Negan. The thought that that could have been him, it could have just as easily been Negan laying lifeless on an operating table, made Rick’s blood run cold.

_He’s still here. He is. There’s still a chance._

People came and went- first was Michonne, who gave him a gentle look and a comforting hand on his shoulder when she saw Negan.

“Hey,” she murmured, “how is he?”

“Denise said he’s…that she doesn’t know for sure. She stitched him up best she could but that he’s lost a lot of blood.” His throat grew thick and he held Judith more tightly to him like she was a security blanket.

Michonne took his hand, squeezing tightly, and not for the first time Rick found himself infinitely thankful for her strength and friendship. “He’s tough, Rick. And he loves you so much.” Rick couldn’t help the pained noise that squeaked out of his throat at that, and she squeezed his hand again. “If he knows you’re out here worrying about him, he’s fighting tooth and nail to get back to you. I know he is.” She ran a hand through his hair, a comforting gesture, and Rick took a shaky breath.

“I know that, too.”

“The Wolves are gone. All of them, we swept the whole place top to bottom. People are already out there starting to haul all the bodies out.”

Rick forced himself to think about the world beyond Negan’s bedside. “How many of ours are dead?”

“Eight,” Michonne sighed. “Deanna lost one of her sons, Aiden. Everyone from our group made it,” she added quietly so that Denise couldn’t hear. “I just thought you’d want to know.”

Rick nodded, a sense of relief spreading through him to know that the rest of his friends were alive. “Thank you.”

“I’m gonna get back out there, help with the cleanup. The construction crew is already working on rebuilding the section of the wall that the truck hit. No-” she caught him moving to get up and pressed him back into his seat. “You’re fine, Rick. You stay here, it’s alright.” She leaned down at kissed the top of his head. “Really. We have this covered. You stay with him. Be here when he wakes up.”

She said it with such confidence that it almost made him feel better.

* * *

With Denise’s okay, Rick hauled Judith’s old portable playpen into the infirmary for the night. He knew there was no way that he would be able to sleep, not with the terror of the invasion and the gut-wrenching fear of losing Negan still hovering over him like heavy stormclouds, so when Denise offered to let him stay, he took her up on it without question.

She and Tara had kept him company for a while while Carl was away helping with the cleanup. He felt guilty about that- he should be out there, helping, laying to rest the people who had fought for this place. The strength of his guilty conscience had nearly pulled him out onto the street a couple times, but Tara had stopped him, let him know that it was okay to stay. 

"You fucking fought them off, Rick. Michonne told me what you did with the walkers at the gate, how you were ready to go over and take them on by yourself. You've done your part for today. You can stay here if you want to. Don't be a dumbass."

It was late now- he’d left his watch at home that morning and had neglected to grab it when he’d retrieved the playpen, but Denise and Tara had retired to the upstairs hours ago, and Carl had been asleep for nearly as long, dozing on a free bed with one hand protectively lolling over the edge of Judith’s playpen. That brought out a bit of fatherly pride in Rick, knowing Carl was so fiercely protective of his sister.

Rick hadn’t let go of Negan’s hand in what felt like hours, keeping it possessively clasped between his own, unable and unwilling to let it go. Let him go. He kept wishing for something- a sign, a twitch of his fingers against his palm or fluttering eyelids. But Negan was still, and it was all Rick could do to focus on the low thrum of the man’s pulse under his thumb, the rise and fall of his chest. He watched it almost obsessively, counting his breaths, fearing that if he looked away for even a moment, they would stop coming altogether.

“Wake up, you asshole,” Rick whispered against their clasped hands. “You don’t get to just…just come in here and make me fall in love with you and then die on me. I guess you warned me though, didn’t you? You told me, all that time ago, that you’d die before you let anyone touch me. You _stupid_ …” his voice broke, tears welling up. “I’m stupid too, though. Kept putting off telling you that I loved you. Kept tellin’ myself that it was because I wanted the right moment, and that was part of it. It was. But I also…I was scared of _this_ , Negan. This right here. Me fallin’ in love with you and then somethin’ happening, and then I’d be right back here I was after Lori. So I kept not sayin’ it, like it would somehow keep this from happening. Like it changed anything. It didn’t. It didn’t change a damn thing, it didn’t save you, and it didn’t stop me from fallin’ in love with you anyway.” He stroked through the tousled strands of Negan’s hair.

“Wish I would’ve said it,” he confessed hoarsely. “I keep thinking that you could- you could die without knowin’ how I feel about you, and it fucking kills me, Negan.” He pulled himself in closer, resting his head on Negan’s chest, hearing the comforting drumming of his heart beneath his ear. “You’d better wake up. You’d better wake up so I can tell you, so you can know. You’d better wake up and stick around to help me raise my kids, because that’s what I want. For so long, I was tryin’ to resist this place, sayin' it wasn’t safe. That was selfish, it was me bein’ scared of finally getting attached to somewhere again. To someone. To the idea of a life, a _real_ life, with Carl and Judith and _you_. But now- today, we fought off those people, Negan. The people here, they fought, and we won. They showed that they can change, that this place is worth fighting for, that we can build a life here. And that’s what I want, Negan. A life, here. With you.” He felt tears sliding hot and wet down his cheeks, soaking through the thin material of Negan’s shirt.

Rick’s heart stopped when he felt something- a subtle shift underneath his head.

There was a hand in his hair then, large and warm, an answered prayer.

“Can’t believe you didn’t try to kiss me awake, Rick.” Negan’s voice was thick and raspy, but it was _his_ voice, and Rick found himself crying even harder when he lifted his head to see hazel eyes gazing down at him. “Am I your fucking sleeping beauty or not?”

“ _Negan,_ ” Rick choked out, and he pulled himself up to meet Negan’s lips with his own, shaking even as he cupped the sides of his face and kissed him. Negan’s hands grasped weakly at his arms, and Rick never wanted to pull away from him.

“That’s more fucking like it,” Negan breathed against Rick’s lips, and Rick couldn’t help it, couldn’t withhold anything from the man in his arms- he laughed. Long and low and breathy, and if there was a hint of a sob to it, Negan was generous enough to not point it out.

“I love you,” Rick said, no longer afraid of bearing the weight of the words. They no longer felt like a burden- they were liberation, a breath of air after having spent so long feeling like he was drowning. “I love you, _I love you_ , Negan-”

“I love you too, Rick,” Negan grinned up at him, his face like the sun. “I fucking love you, too.”

* * *

**Epilogue**

Rick’s mind twisted the gash across Negan’s throat into something truly horrific. Denise had always been the one to clean and re-wrap it until the stitches came out, so for a week, whenever he looked at the bandages necklacing Negan’s throat, Rick could only picture the bloody slash that had been there before.

There were nightmares, some nights, where the slash went too deep, where everything was red and wet and the blood sprayed and Rick woke up, sweating and shaking, clinging to Negan and grasping for his pulse to assure himself that he was still alive.

When the stitches came out, it wasn’t pretty, but it was better than Rick had been picturing. No ragged wound, just a thick, angry-but-healing red scar across the front of Negan’s throat. He caught Negan rubbing at it and frowning one evening in their bathroom mirror.

“Ugly fucking thing, isn’t it?” he muttered. “Fucking jackass. At least he didn’t wreck my pretty face though, huh baby? You would’ve dumped me for sure then.”

Rick thought he caught the slightest hint of insecurity underneath Negan’s joking, and drew the man into his arms, pressing his hips into the marble countertop. “Don’t be stupid, Negan.” He kissed the scar, a feather-light brush of lips, and felt the way Negan’s breathing hitched when he did so. “If it bothers you, I’ll get you a scarf. You can wear it with that fucking jacket in the middle of summer. How’s that sound?” he teased.

Negan’s face was buried in Rick’s hair to hide his grin. “Sounds fucking perfect, darlin’. Make it red. I look damn good in red.”

That night, when Rick wrapped himself around Negan, he paid special attention to his neck, kissing and sucking the way he’d wanted to before, drinking in the way Negan squirmed under him, heated moans escaping his lips.

Negan didn’t mind the marks that he found there the next morning. Rick caught him smiling in the mirror, and wearing them proudly when he went off to join the construction crew’s efforts to begin work on a second guard tower.

\--

It took Rick longer than he wanted to be comfortable with sex. It was a learning process, all of it, made of gentle, guiding hands and tender patience and whispered praises in his ear while he and Negan were pressed close together between the sheets. He slowly, surely, took back control of his own body, and could never be thankful enough to Negan for being a determined man who was willing to wait. Willing to do a lot, really.

“You can fuck me. If you want. If that would be easier.” He offered one day, out of the blue while chopping tomatoes- _fresh tomatoes!_ \- from their newly established garden.

Rick almost choked. “What?”

Negan raised his head to look at him. “What? You didn’t think about that? Jesus, Rick, you know we’re both working with the same equipment, right? It’s a two way street.”

Rick considered that. “I just…never thought about it.”

Negan, as dominant and boisterous as he was, was all too willing to give up control to Rick. Why he hadn’t seen that earlier, he couldn’t say. But he took everything Negan taught him from the months that Rick spent atop him- _go slow, use your fingers, yes, just like that, Rick, fuck, oh god, right there, baby, yes_ \- and held it close.

_He’ll be like this with you, when you’re ready. This patient, this gentle, this good._

Negan more than proved him right the first time he made love to him. He’d been touched before, by then- by Negan’s fingers, by his own, by Negan’s mouth- but the feeling of Negan inside him, of their bodies, unguarded and intertwined so closely that Rick thought he may never be able to disentangle himself, was like nothing else.

When he came, it was with a victory cry that Negan had to quickly smother with his own mouth lest they wake the kids sleeping down the hall.

\--

Negan lived for the little moments- for that goofy grin on Rick’s face when he donned the red scarf that he’d found for Negan on a supply run. For Carl, telling him one evening after a family dinner that, “I’m glad you fell in love with my dad.” For Judith, giggling and toddling over to him for a chubby-armed hug while he and Beth crooned Johnny Cash to her. For the unlikely friendships he’d found in Rick’s- _his_ \- group, for the man who’d taken him in in the first place. For Rick, thighs wrapped tight around his waist, fingers gripping at the sheets. For Rick, asleep on his chest, hair tickling his collarbone. For Rick, looking up it him with all the love in the world laid bare in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, and I can't say it enough- thank you so much to everyone who read and left comments and kudos, I appreciate all of it so much.


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